| Each word bitten
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| Every fuck is pronounced
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| With conviction written
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| In justice announced
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| And every hand that feeds is bitten
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| If it steals from hungry mouths
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| Convention be damned
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| I know who I am and some words
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| Are just to fucking loud
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| They can’t be ignored
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| Twice our bitter lifetime
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| Tucked tightly in their belts
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| But spat and bit in such a way
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| That you just know how it felt
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| What it means to be a man
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| And what it means to refuse it
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| Things I learned along the way
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| While listening to their music
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| So laugh then cry so I’ll try but to laugh again
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| Throw your hands up in the relief
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| That twenty years won’t end their reign, their reign, their reign
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| The reign of unending terror
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| The rain that brings us warning
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| The rain that breaks the sky and gives us hope
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| For the end of this long night
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| Red sky morning light
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| The truth is some days I don’t have any morals at all
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| The truth is I left them in the men’s room at the truck-stop in the second stall
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| The truth is some days I don’t have any morals at all
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| The truth is I left them in the men’s room at the truck-stop in the second stall
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| And that’s the kind of enemy that obscures
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| The very core of me
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| My shallow lacking and disbelief
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| Steps back while flipping the sleeves of
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| Cd books with cold-cocked hooks
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| Flip, the kings, uplift the rooks
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| Spit on the diamond cuffs
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| Of the real crooks
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| When you look in my eyes who do you see
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| When you look in my eyes who is it
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| When you look in my eyes who do you see
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| When you look in my eyes who is it |