| All the creepy teenage brats
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| Walk around all dressed in black
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| Sticks and stones may break my bones
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| But when you die, you can’t come back
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| Cut my soul over a wrist
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| She wears long sleeves to hide the tracks
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| Come to the cemetery gates
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| Where all these feelings play and dance
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| Come to, the ceme-tery (Come to the cemetery)
|
| Come to, the ceme-tery (Come to the cemetery)
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| Turn me from bones to ashes
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| Scatter me across the grass
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| We were never meant to last
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| Life’s a sick and twisted laugh
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| Blood is all over my hands
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| Day of the dead, let’s gather hands
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| As their corpses leave the caskets
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| Now let’s sing along and dance
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| Come to, the ceme-tery (Come to the cemetery)
|
| Come to, the ceme-tery (Come to the cemetery)
|
| Come to, the ceme-tery (Come to the cemetery)
|
| Come to, the ceme-tery (Come to the cemetery) |