| If hell broke out in the White House, how long would it take for word to carry
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| here?
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| Would it stay hush hush till the weather changed, till the sun warmed the snow
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| and fears?
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| Well I would wanna know. |
| I would wanna know, and it’s strange to me that you
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| could barely care.
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| You say, like this stolen ground no one’s golden now. |
| We’re all made of bronze
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| and steel.
|
| Well why don’t you leave, just leave. |
| You make a horrible point,
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| with your eyes looking low.
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| So leave, just leave. |
| You’re on the cutting board, the cutting board of the
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| cutting room floor.
|
| You’re gonna wake to a whole different scene.
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| All your pretty lights and neon signs replaced with green.
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| And as you curse the river bed that you throw your compass in,
|
| there’s comfort 'round the bend.
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| But this house is filled with crooks and liars.
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| We regret to inform you there’s no love here for you.
|
| (I know you’re coming with the worst intentions. Bring the flood)
|
| So take your hooks and pliers.
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| We regret to inform you, you’re the lowest form.
|
| So leave, just leave. |
| You make a horrible point with your eyes looking low.
|
| So leave, just leave. |
| You’re on the cutting board, the cutting board of the
|
| cutting room floor.
|
| You’ve got this crazy notion.
|
| You’ve ripped this out by the seems.
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| You can’t even fathom how with every word you try to say,
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| You dig yourself a hole you can’t escape.
|
| And that’s a little bit more than what you came here for.
|
| Isn’t it funny how little respect
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| You get when you burn the world for a paycheck?
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| Leave, just leave. |
| You make a horrible point with your eyes looking low.
|
| So leave, just leave. |
| You’re on the cutting board, the cutting board of the
|
| cutting room floor. |