| If we give the horses blinders
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| They won’t see the approaching ledge
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| Too much time and effort spent on just another bridge
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| We trust the local doctor
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| We trust the medicine
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| Our child gets a scratch
|
| We give our child a brand new head
|
| We eat what’s on our plate
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| We drink what’s in our cup
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| We like the shiny tv screen
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| It spits we lap it up
|
| And so they push this product
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| And they know we’ll buy it
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| They sing a song
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| We hum along
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| We sing
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| But we don’t understand the words to the song
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| And they fill our heads
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| With sugar coated shit
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| Cause there’s no need to talk
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| When we have medicine
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| There’s a pill for every fucked up thought
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| And a cure for every fucked up child
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| When the mind starts running
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| Be sure it won’t cross the finish line
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| And if it wanders
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| Bring it back and cage it for some time
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| And if it stretches
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| It will only one day rip
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| To prevent excessive thought
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| Just keep it up on the shelf
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| And when the shelves are full
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| And supplies are short
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| And quickly running out
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| You’ve got a thousand mindless zombies
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| And terrified horses on your hands
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| It was a damn good plan
|
| It was a damn good plan |