| Dirty devil filthy shameful strangling the angels
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| Shoulders cold as Poconos with strokes of paint upon my facial
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| Taste the Krocodil imposter prophets often kill for profits too
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| Plastic bastard prostitute can’t patch em with epoxy glue
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| Darker hues crocodile audiences chopped in two
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| ‘Pac influenced zombie-walking open casket plot for you
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| He pitifully depicts defunct epiphanies again awash
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| Picasso blue from mollycoddled ocean bottom water views
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| Pulling pistols on Episcopaleans with scaly lips
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| Sewing stitches on my wrists & face again Frankenstein
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| Poking sixes on my own creations skin Pygmalion
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| Been 86ed since '86, tell me what’s my name again?
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| If you float then you’re a witch
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| If you drown you’re one of us
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| If you don’t know which is which
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| Then you’re probably one of em
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| Maybe I’m crazy but lately the days still seem hazy
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| I’m stuck in a maze where there’s nothing amazing
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| I’m fading away to a place that I hate but I made it
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| I’ll stay til I’m grey & deface it
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| I’m facing the grain complaining but taking the blame
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| Tracing the stains in the fray while they savor the pain
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| If the clouds take my tears then I’m making it rain
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| Fall on me now while you follow me down
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| Like the autumn I watched til its rotten and brown
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| Will you hollow me out til the solemn is gone
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| And I walk on my own to the bottom I found
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| With a bottle the doubt that I swallow like sandpaper
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| Tulips are lackluster, bruises are lavender
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| After the atmosphere loses its beauty
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| I’ll kiss all your fingers you use them like calipers
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| So let it be known all my energy’s yours
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| Hope you think of my face when the entropy forms
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| All my enemies dead to us now, while the effigies burn
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| For the few that my effort is for
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| In my exodus evident people lack elegance
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| Hiding your excellence deep in my nebulas
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| We are inanimate objects just animals walking
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| In sync until we reach the precipice |