| I made my own evolution,
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| Now I’m living without illusions,
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| Now I’m not so straight as I was.
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| Too many people were involved,
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| But then I found out that they were sold,
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| They were sold by themselves.
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| But who really wants to stuff,
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| A white Kleenex up m mouth?
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| Or rush to the toilet and slash their wrists,
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| But who really cares — no one gets pissed.
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| Your brain’s a mess and that is fine,
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| It corresponds to mine — fine
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| You can not pass your twenty-nine.
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| Too mad? |
| Your rage? |
| We’ll cool you down,
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| Lay in your grave — don’t misbehave,
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| Lay — this is your grave.
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| But who says we’ve been glued by the liquor,
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| By the ones that were smarter & quicker,
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| But who knows if Beatles raped Naive,
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| And who knows if they’re too naive to believe that,
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| Punks not dead?
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| Punks not dead?
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| Punks not dead?
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| You only wanna screw and kill,
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| Anything to make you ill — kill!
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| So that the vomit washes off my tears.
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| Too many wounds that never bled,
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| Too many magnums at my head, now
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| Now I decided to stop it all.
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| But whales that piece of paper mean?
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| That all those suckers signed for him?
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| They are the dirty and I am the clean,
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| They ate my garbage, now I eat their cream!
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| Punks not dead?
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| Punks not dead?
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| Punks not dead? |