| I keep my knives sharp
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| Dance around muscle groups like paper
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| Separate so neatly at the joint
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| Falls away easily if you follow my map
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| Embedded in each creature like dotted lines
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| And I trace these with my trusty knife
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| I fabricate
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| Destroy to create this
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| Is it wrong to be so callous?
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| Have I lost my human heart?
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| I can look one in the eyes and I see parts
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| Knives extend my reach in metal
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| I’m an artist in my right
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| Is it wrong or am I evil?
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| I just want to feed you
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| I keep my knives sharp
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| Let the weight trace on these darting fingers
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| Manufactured to be torn apart
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| And I’m skillful in this occupation
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| I can stand and argue virtue
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| With my elbows dripping red
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| Differentiate the living from the dead
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| Is it wrong to call them product
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| When we’re breathing the same air?
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| Is it vicious? |
| Am I evil?
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| I just want to please you
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| We all end up the same way
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| It all ends the same |