| I was born bitter, herbal earthen aftertaste of urban living
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| Rat racing in a tracksuit, tracing, chasing shadows
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| Boxing, facing my opponent on a box spring
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| An ode to the lock and loaded 'cause the eyes look crazy off
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| Something’s not right, head slightly cocked
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| My words are the key but they might be locked
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| The gate’s been closed and the flows been turned off
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| When the water runs dry, I take my clothes off
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| I’m searching for a savior in a flavored soda bottle
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| No, I’m not a Coca Cola can collector
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| I’m a relegated relic of the past
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| A fragile agile intellect inspector
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| Go on look at my brain, it’s bubbling again
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| Carbonated water plus bleached sugarcane
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| Sweet and tender on a bender to drain
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| To the last drop I can’t stop, no time to train
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| Mamma told me there’d be days like this
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| When the kiss of bliss
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| Was intertwined with this spitting vision divine
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| The mind is a prison and the blind have risen
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| Always bumping in the night much to the delight
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| Of those who prefer a spark in the dark
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| To a hole in the light and they don’t wanna fight
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| And I’m sort of supposing you’ve chosen
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| To live life frozen in time
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| But I sip wine with poison lined lips kissing time
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| When there’s no one left to leave behind
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| With a theme unknown, I dream alone
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| When I feel the need, I’m free to roam
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| I walk in a park and when it gets dark
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| I take the long way home
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| When I grow up, I want to die
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| And I want death to be a thespian
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| Roll the cameras and let’s begin
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| Action, action, action
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| (My best friend’s girl will be a lesbian
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| Knock, knock, knock, please let me in)
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| I make landfall, kiss the ground then stand tall
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| All this still life, still the distillery needs the ripe fruit
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| Of the gods to feed the need for knowledge
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| And I guess I never knew the ledge
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| And let alone the border
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| But I took one jump, a leap of faith
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| And it made me hate disorder
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| I found myself sorta
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| Where I thought I’d be but a part of me was sad
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| I’d been had, I thought I was doing something special
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| Now I’m faced with the fact, I’m just a fad
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| I’m gonna fades away in eighty eight shades of gray
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| And maybe more the sore grows
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| I’m sure those holes in my brain aren’t hostile
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| Although I’m in a lot of pain
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| On the rocks of reality, dreams get splashed
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| In the throes of oblivion, throats get slashed
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| And goats get sacrificed to rid our backs of vice
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| When actually the monkey is not likely to suffice
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| When pressed for luck, I chuck the dice, fuck the mice
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| And men what might have been advice to follow
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| Is now manifestos to swallow
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| Washed down with asbestos and what I’ve left
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| Those who drink instant coffee
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| And talk in impossible options is a word of caution
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| I’ll be watching your thoughts drift off when you get soft
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| And I’m not afraid to go there but I know where I’m not wanted
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| Undaunted I wander, through haunted homes I stumble
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| The stairs crumble unearthing bones in the rubble
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| And here comes trouble, it’s the walking dead
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| You read my thoughts and fed my thirst
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| And talked enough to let me finish this
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| If it’s not best then it’s the worst
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| I’m a wise man arriving, devising new ways to be enterprising
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| And it’s tough surviving the places where I’ve been waiting
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| Faces that leave me feeling frustrated
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| Hello to your face and good riddance to bitter cynics like you
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| I hate the venom you spit sentiment, I don’t believe to be true
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| It’s this creeping culture, the feeding vulture
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| Eats decaying soul made flesh
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| They hold less control than ever but put this patent on fresh
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| And now it’s trademarked and parked in the executive space
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| Dark laws don’t apply in the dark side
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| Buy my record and I’ll give you a free water
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| So how’s about a toast getting close to where most go over
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| My glass is half full but I ain’t close to being sober
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| With a theme unknown, I dream alone
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| When I feel the need, I’m free to roam
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| I walk in a park and when it gets dark
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| I take the long way home
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| When I grow up, I want to die
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| And I want death to be a thespian
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| Roll the cameras and let’s begin
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| Action, action, action
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| (My best friend’s girl will be a lesbian
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| Knock, knock, knock, please let me in) |