| From the bowery to the brimstone I tried to find your heart
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| The drugs of initiation, the bottom of a barrel that drops
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| I understand your causes sympathize with motivation
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| All the details of this war are just self-infatuation
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| Nothing’s for free
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| Pick up the sticks
|
| And go home
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| Your manic blood runs thick my friend are you looking for a clean escape
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| What’s left when the locks have all been broken young children of authority
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| Tell me how long can you be agile dancing between the alter and the merci seat
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| Now here’s a chance to make a choice are you aware of the fire beneath your feet
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| Nothing’s for free
|
| Pick up the sticks
|
| And go home
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| You better own up to me
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| Yeah Yeah
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| Go home
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| The basement lies within us
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| Our fear comes through the door
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| Now there’s nothing left between us
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| As the fear becomes a roar
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| Once that wheel is in motion don’t lose what you have found
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| We’re talking bout the burning wheel of tongues everything that makes it go
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| round and round
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| We’re all born in the devil’s scorn he wants to see you die
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| I’m asking you, «are you true», and everything they say is a lie is a lie now
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| Nothing’s for free
|
| Pick up the sticks
|
| And go 1 2 3
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| Nothing’s for free
|
| Pick up the sticks
|
| And go 1 2 3 (we're all born)
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| Nothing’s for free (in the devil’s scorn)
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| 1 2 3 (we're all born)
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| Nothing’s for free (in the devil’s scorn)
|
| And everything they say is a lie it’s a lie now
|
| Everything they say is a lie it’s a lie
|
| Pick up the sticks (pick up the sticks)
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| Pick up the sticks (pick up the sticks)
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| Pick up the sticks (pick up the sticks)
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| Pick up the sticks |