| Bleak readout
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| Leave me out
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| Speak freely then be out, be out, be out
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| Be out, be out, be out
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| Be out, be out, be out
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| We been at odds with our sins
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| We seen 'em crawl from the deep
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| We went too far, then we came back
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| And now we’re falling asleep
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| It’s been a shadowy war
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| It’s been a horrible year
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| It’s been the corner of adored
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| And feared in fourth gear
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| Part bear part…
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| …barely there in rare heirlooms
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| Eyes like the size of an urn in a smurf’s spare room
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| First dig it’s weapons and low fives
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| And the rest get to sweat and peck at their own eyes
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| Pass out…
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| …Hash browns over home fries
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| All spinning bowties and hideous bone piles
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| Close to the cloak and joke with a broke style
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| No smile hotel robe in the bulk aisle
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| Hail Mary on a hell-bound round-trip
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| Clack horns with various rebel outfits
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| Marginal charisma lived over brownies
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| Lived over Jewson’s with the reubens and the house thieves
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| We been a mouthful of beer
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| We been a down on our luck
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| We been an out on our ear
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| In theory louder than fuck
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| It’s been a hole in the head
|
| It’s been a series of gaffes
|
| It’s been a missionary meddling
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| In mysterious craft
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| And three the hard way
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| March into harm’s way, so what?
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| Hem and haw getting all «our day will come»
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| With barmaids that cuss and come from the rough side
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| Where they shrug at the fuzz and bust like a cup size
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| Just die
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| Punks run from the unkind bloodline
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| Sock full of drugs on the one nine, dumb high
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| The moonshine runners with their buckets full of mudslides
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| Ten erratic moods that commune around a plus sign
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| Vulnerable species, life on the red list
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| Poached in the city now he hides in the wetlands
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| Monologue on a cross doing headstands
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| From the coast where the goats grow up with a deadpan
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| My DJ is Whiz, when he plays he wins, he go |