| «Swampblood»
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| Way down in Toxarcana, I was ten years old
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| In a fever dream, dark night of the soul
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| Well, 'twas brillig and the slithey toves
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| I bid the world good-bye by the dead bog oaks
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| Drop down in the Swampblood
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| I’m washed in the Swampblood
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| I’m washed in the blood
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| Dusty bibles lead to a dirty south
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| He’s sittin' with a toadstool rotting in his mouth
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| In a clearing where the bras hang down from the trees
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| He’s cappin' a coffee can full of teeth
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| Down Doom’s Chapel Raod, past his great grandma
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| She says «turn 'im loose, or I’ll call the law.»
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| He says «There's no testimony without the test
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| What we do with our own is our own damn business.»
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| Drop down in the Swampblood
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| I’m washed in the Swampblood
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| I’m washed in the blood |