| Manned flowers intense tremble across vivid stones from a far away land
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| So distant that the coffee stains on my shirt turned into brown, brown ladybugs
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| And wandered all over my body 'til heavy water became black and translucent and
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| Tales from unknown rabbits, were the only thing you can see
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| And they jumped across like small, small town politicians trying to get their
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| word across without using any social media or anything
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| Just paper, and paper, and paper and, and water
|
| Off with their heads
|
| Off with their heads
|
| Off with their heads
|
| Off with their heads
|
| Off with their heads
|
| Off with their heads
|
| Off with their heads
|
| Off with their heads
|
| Days like this ended in a flash in a deadly regime
|
| And eternal fires where the fingers and workers in the coal factories and the
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| milk factories and the, and the butter factories, and the morning paper
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| factories
|
| And the morning paper was only an iPhone the same size as a train
|
| And there weren’t any trains anymore, people had to actually walk around
|
| And segways had been abolished, just like slavery
|
| And it kept on going for like this, ever and ever, nothing was ever a choice
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| anymore, you had information all over you, and this was the only thing you can
|
| see
|
| Off with their heads
|
| Off with their heads (Come on now)
|
| Off with their heads (Cut 'em off)
|
| Off with their heads
|
| Off with their heads
|
| Off with their heads (Come on now)
|
| Off with their heads (Cut 'em off)
|
| Off with their heads
|
| And even George Orwell couldn’t have foreseen this
|
| There was nothing we could do anything about, there was just a world that we
|
| lived in and
|
| We all convinced ourselves that we were artists, this was just a part of the
|
| big one
|
| But there was no big one |