| LIO they say you haven’t made it
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| Until you got that favor
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| I can’t help it hurts me
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| The pen cuts like a razor
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| Too bad if they kick you in the face
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| They draw blood you can put in your pen
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| And you write again
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| Oh what a disappointment, LIO
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| I thought that you would go the distance, MY-O
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| Anticipation was a little, High-O
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| You were low, low, low, low, LIO
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| Symbols spread across the pages
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| I play electric wires
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| I’ve got rhythms in my head
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| And irons in the fires
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| It don’t hurt the process
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| But they did leave a scar on the face of the fighter
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| Who’ll fight again
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| Oh what a disappointment, LIO
|
| I thought that you would go the distance, MY-O
|
| Anticipation was a little High-O
|
| You were low, low, low, low, LIO
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| My world, which lives inside of my head
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| No where else but my head
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| And I’m the one who puts the limitations on it
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| They said you belong in this line over here
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| No thanks, I’m not that weak
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| And the music will speak again
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| Oh what a disappointment, LIO
|
| I thought that you would go the distance, MY-O
|
| Anticipation was a little High-O
|
| You were low, low, low, low, LIO
|
| You were low, low, low, low, LIO
|
| You were low, low, low, low
|
| Humans walking around in cages
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| We build with our own hands
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| Looking for the turning point
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| That waits outside |