| She’s got a cancer sitting on the base of her brain
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| She’s gotta know we’ve got an answer, but it’s not entirely sane or rational
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| It comes in pills, poppers poisonous so much they’ll inflame the lining sitting
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| safe inside of her skull
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| Why don’t we drill, suck the fucker out, and hope it’ll heal and it won’t grow?
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| Can you explain what she’s eating how does she exercise?
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| We’ve gotta know so we can say what the side effects will be on her mind,
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| or if she’ll croak
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| We admit that it’s a problem and nobody has answers
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| Might as well give her a cup of tea
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| It’s the least we can do to ease the tension before the surgery
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| But we’re not offering a guarantee
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| Everybody knows by now she’s gotta go right now
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| To the operating table with her lights out
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| Everybody knows by now she’s gotta go right now
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| Might as well just make a habit, bend and kowtow now
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| Can she speak?
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| Can she feel it when you tickle or poke between her toes?
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| Does she feel weak?
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| How remarkable… You’re sure she awoke and then arose?
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| What’s the deal?
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| How’s that moving?
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| What’s the sound from the stairs?
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| Could we have woken up a power inside?
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| Confide in me brother — Did wake up a god?
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| Should we lie? |
| Or should we go and just curl up and die?
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| Woke a fucking monster with the power of science
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| Can you pass me that bag and IV?
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| I’m gonna mainline morphine, close my eyes,
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| And just hope that she don’t see me before I pass out
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| I’m so sorry |