| I guess it comes around in sequences of two, three and four
|
| A wicked child born to hover on the edge of the door
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| The taste of flesh and the smell of the under adored
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| And just ‘cause money begets money doesn’t mean I ain’t bored
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| I want it found, want it sung from the mouths of the frail
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| I take your picture but the sound of silence isn’t for sale
|
| And once again we find ourselves on the tips of our toes
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| The smell of sanitisation screaming «follow your nose»
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| A waste of time, waste of money, waste of national pride
|
| Hammer and sickle held up high but it’s already been tried
|
| One more taste one more swing of the high
|
| I’d kiss your feet if Jesus Christ hadn’t already died
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| Wooo-ooo
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| Waking up on the banks of the river of Styx
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| A steady stream as the banks gush a river of pricks
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| What a voice, what a change sitting suitably numb
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| Jacking off to your promotion but you never quite cum
|
| A waste of time, waste of money, waste of national pride
|
| Hammer and sickle held up high but it’s already been tried
|
| One more taste one more swing of the high
|
| I kiss your feet, but there’s a price
|
| Family fun, family fun
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| The smell of freedom from the end of a gun
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| Family fun, family fun
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| Under the heat of the Arabian sun
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| Family fun, family fun
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| Pick up your toothbrush and your children and run
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| Family fun, family fun, family fun |