| Talk comes real cheap
|
| Expend and dispose, expend and dispose
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| These days, it’s what I live to do
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| Oh, I know this junk is tacky
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| But it’s what I’ve got to offer
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| I’ll just keep on spitting out more litter
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| It’ll heap up in disposable drifts
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| Some poor fucks will sort through it in shifts
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| Believe me, there’s more where that came from
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| Where can I buy budget words to describe
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| The awful hole that gapes inside me
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| And just keeps growing, growing, growing
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| As I pour in more and more plastic metaphors
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| You know you’re gonna keep on reading this shit
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| Lightweight and stripped of the meaning
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| It once wrapped up, ‘til I used it all up
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| Now it’s dross, compacted in metonym clumps
|
| And all this waste comes straight from my waist
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| I’m shitting out tons and tons of this garbage every year
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| Dumped logotoxins leach into the groundwater
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| I’ll make every ear my sewer
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| It’s all trash talk, trash talk, trash talk
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| Throw me on the pile
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| No deposit for recycle
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| One use only
|
| And all that offal is crawling
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| Back up through the plumbing
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| It’s clambering out
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| Of the landfills and rivers
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| My filth children will wander
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| While I spawn more, and wonder
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| Why these refuse similes
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| All sound so incomplete |