| By day I plot the downfall of society
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| I devise devious plans of retribution
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| Night falls and I am out on the streets
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| Distributing my «political contributions»…
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| No restaurant or cafe
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| Is safe from my attack
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| I file among the cooks and chiefs
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| From kitchen to kitchen I plant my «surprise»
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| Discreetly to avoid early detection
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| The next day the news blare my psychotic feats
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| With joy, the terrorism has shocked and offended
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| I take my urine and steaming feces
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| Smear it and mix it within the food you eat!
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| Terrified the city locks the doors of tempered cafes
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| The restauranteurs and patrons revulsed
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| My warm shit burritos can kill…
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| Some folks use bombs, others use guns
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| I find my way deadlier and more exacting
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| My bodily excrement washes your gums
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| Later, fluids bubble from your nose
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| Outbreaks of staph throughout this f**king town
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| The fear is contained and profound
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| The market’s my next step, to piss in the milk
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| No one is safe… I spread my hate around
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| Your skin bubbles and smells
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| Your guts burn, you squeal
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| The bile in your throat is gastric acid
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| Your terror will never heal!
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| You fear to eat again
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| I know my revenge is complete
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| To commit such a horrible task
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| To remember my atrocious deeds…
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| To not forget… |