| He’s running on a tuff gnarl in his head
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| He’s got a fatal erection home in bed
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| He’s really smart and he’s really fast
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| He’s got a hard tit, killer fuck in his past
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| Saints preserve us in hot young stuff
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| The saving grace is a sonic pig pile
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| Amazing grazing, strange and raging
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| Flies are flaring through your brains
|
| Spastic flailing, literally raising my roof
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| An adrenal mental man-tool box
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| Explodes in music, creates utopia
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| You gnarl out on my nerves
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| You weird and crush the cranking raunch
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| Flesh dirt force field, lost and found
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| Let’s burn your broken hearts
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| Set our sight on sights not yet set
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| Let’s scorch your wavo wig
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| Let’s poke your eyes out |