| Oh, it ain’t safe, you better watch out
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| They’re coming to get you — sickle and shroud
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| They’ll turn you to stone and burn out your sky
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| They’ve got your number — television eyes
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| The cinches, the doctors, the streaks, and the radio lights
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| You think you can fight, hold on to your ground
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| The fingers of doom — time’s counting down
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| You think you can run from the mushroom cloud
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| Rain turns to cinder when the hammer comes down
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| The cinches, the doctors, the streaks, and the radio lights
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| You The cinches, the doctors, the streaks, and the radio lights
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| You’re living on the edge of a psycholdelic nightmare
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| I covered my face, I closed my door
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| The skyline was falling like the armies before
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| In the dust and the heat, the sound of change
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| Hell bent for leather, nothing remained
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| The cinches, the doctors, the streaks, and the radio lights |