| There is a cause for celebration here in the belly of the swarm.
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| The situation demands that we raie our glasses in honor of the spoesman we’ve
|
| fixated to the florr.
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| Give us your headlines hymns and your saddest verse.
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| You’re not partnered with the half hearted anymore.
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| Our legs are spread wide open, our weary heads are splitting at the seams and
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| we all know your proficient in the idioms of grief.
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| We are capable of the of the kind of love about which only the petrified can
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| speak.
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| Concede him the microphone let him sing the triumphs of the frauds to all his
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| loyal sycofanatics.
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| We all cater to the fire, once the walls come rushing down for shame.
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| I can say it better than you felt it.
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| And I can be it bigger than you needed it.
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| I haven’t spent a day of my life apart from the one everyone’s read about.
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| I’ll spark de-evolution.
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| I was specially bred for the cover page of your magazines.
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| I’ve been fattened up for the guillotines.
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| Sweet talker, you’re goddamn right I’m a blessed lamb.
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| I can show you how to have a good time.
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| I know why you came here, but neither of us will get what you want out of me.
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| This room has one too many laureates so I’m keeping my peace.
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| Every canidate ends his life with a cliche, and the paths of glory lead to
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| nowhere but the grave.
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| I’ve been spoiled rotten.
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| Every thought I’ve authored has curdled.
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| Not everything is poetry but I can’t convince you of that.
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| I’ve been drawn and quartered.
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| I’ve been twice picked over.
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| And it’s sickening what you’ve come here today to celebrate.
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| Fuck yea we’re gonna party tonight.
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| I am capable of the kind of love about which only the intoxicated and the
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| California bound can weep. |