| Let’s play the game that got you wasted
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| Let’s take a drip from the prick syringe
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| Can you remember how it tasted when the drumstick smacked you?
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| What a forceful friend
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| Now the sun’s coming up on your palace
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| You’re breaking crystal with your mallets
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| You shatter glasses and you shadowbox
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| Your trifocals focus on the phallus
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| There’s no glory
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| No sacred soul sea
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| No starship
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| No black keys
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| No bands that remove me from competition
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| In the coliseum
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| I’ll smash your keyboards
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| I’ll take mine back home
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| Then Jesus taps you on the shoulder:
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| «My father’s ageless, but you’re older
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| And you’re too feeble for my lightningbolt.»
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| The universe starts dying
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| It gets colder
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| And now it’s time for you to feel some pain
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| Sacrifice a lung or two to fortune/fame
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| Put down the auditorium with Christian name
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| And call yourself a sacrificial soldier
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| I can’t believe that you’d bulldoze the mineshaft
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| You traded emotion for skills, and computerized
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| Take back the seascape on jet skis and earthquakes
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| Envision the nightmares you’ll cause in the Birchmeres
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| You’ll spill spill spill spill
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| Garbage shaft floor-by-floor |