| Just around 5 o’clock
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| Cars are screaming around the block
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| The boy is scared and looking around
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| He’s feeling a little bit anxious
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| I think he’s searching for his mother
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| What did you find?
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| On the white van
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| Facing this prospect I set out for today’s
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| Over-introspection, I feast upon decay
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| Around me is misfortune, my avenue, all spades
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| Digging all the so-called diggers
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| Digging his own grave
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| Permit me Mr. Indecision watch his machine cave
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| End up on itself and watch one debit I win and mince our way
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| The seats are best from over there out beyond the shade
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| My diggers in their dirty coats their attitudes of spades
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| Passing the inspection, No!
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| Now this is every day
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| Special forces, special boots
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| The stomper comes to pay
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| Fancy men so over-suited for the final days
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| Keep the prince in timely chintz
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| Ring out the barren child at bay
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| Christen the disaster
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| At least that’s what I say
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| Into which the thing determines which rate he decays
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| Keeping loads of sunshine
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| I love the job I play
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| Digging out this whole shitty world
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| Digging it today
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| White world
|
| White world
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| White world
|
| White world
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| White world
|
| White world
|
| White world
|
| White world
|
| White world
|
| White world
|
| White world
|
| White world
|
| White world
|
| White world
|
| White world
|
| White world
|
| White world
|
| Good afternoon
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| What else did you find?
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| It’s not color blind
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| Feel indication
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| My vindication
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| To know nothing exists
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| Opens all to «what and if»
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| Portions of my emptiness
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| Sitting by the open door
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| Looking up to take it out
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| Settle in to catch a show
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| Re-situation
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| Dead indication
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| Feels like a clock I ate
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| Ticking in this toxic state
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| Ready for an occupant
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| Suck it up to sniff the paint
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| Sniffing up the weakest link
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| Rising from the righteous stink
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| See simulation speak
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| To take a piece of me
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| Hold onto walls of life
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| Pull the chain, when burning bright
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| In a copter raise the rope
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| Firmly placed around my throat
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| Aging worm at sanding counters
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| Slipping through my finger burn
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| Each a seclusion
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| My own intrusion
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| Upon my waking state
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| Each of us must face their fate
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| Crawling wicked, crawl some more
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| Broken body pray on floor
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| Pulling through to face a flaw
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| Pushing back to push some more |