| What about it Nicki, is it socially positive?
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| Well I think we live in overstimulated times
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| We crave stimulation for its own sake
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| We gorge ourselves on it
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| We always want more whether it’s tactile, emotional, or sexual
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| And I think that’s bad
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| Nights are longer, days are shorter
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| Time gets longer, patience shorter
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| I just wander pacing forward
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| Like a monster, stay De Goya
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| Dead from the start, mark of the beast
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| Heart that I eat, armed to the teeth
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| An intellect, sharp, bleak
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| Indifferent, war, peace
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| Food for thought they force-feed
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| That bla bla bla of a blasé God
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| I got a suicide that’s forming
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| A warning for a deadly price
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| I know I’m not the steady type, I’m lost in heady highs
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| I’m an artist, man, I’m drawn to sketchy types
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| Crabs in a bucket that I’ll probably kick if I don’t watch 'em
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| Hashtag my blood but there’s no audience for psychodrama
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| Look what the tiger brought in, death, death by dishonor
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| Ultraviolet on it, show me where they hide the bodies
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| Inside the audio I probably own a few ex&les
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| Tooth enamel planted in the hand that fed a losing battle
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| Soon Seattle’s gloomy atmosphere
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| Can steer me to the shadows
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| Booze tobacco, moody adults
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| All the blessings they throw at you
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| Long live the new flesh
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| Molly hits, group-sex
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| Long live the new flesh
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| Klonopin, booze, X
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| Long live the new flesh
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| Audience-approved death
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| Long live the new flesh
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| A blind stupor prying at the sutures
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| I set fire to their dry sense of humor
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| They’re alive but they’ll die in the future
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| People I remove from my side like a tumor
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| They didn’t notice me when I acted balanced
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| They didn’t notice when my dying was an art
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| They didn’t notice me when I planted flowers
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| But I bet they’d notice with a knife inside their hearts
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| If I stab deep, add 'em to the tally
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| Toe-tag 'em, bag 'em &can 'em up for the trash-heap
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| And that’s some fitting title usage if you ask me
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| I hope they get diseases from the music that’s so catchy
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| There must be something in the water, right?
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| Root of all evil, power of the dollar, right?
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| Two can keep a secret if one of 'em is slaughtered, right?
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| Fuck, marry, kill &they still don’t get the order right
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| Right? |
| You see I write with my right hand
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| Right now, write down, rights of a righthand man
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| Who was left on a left-hand path
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| So I’m Plath with the deadpan that
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| Means I’m Colossus in my head
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| Doing aerials I’m Ariel &falling to my death
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| Stomping over cities that their God must have neglected
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| Instead left an admonishment of long live the flesh
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| Death to the Videodrome &that's an order not request
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| So conform or get the wreck, uh
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| A Klonipin &a cardiac arrest
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| Left an overworked artifact, a heart attack is next, uh
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| So I don’t lollygag my steps
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| There’s no tardy pass in hell, there’s no sorry that can fix
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| From over-sleeper to insomniac &stressed
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| I’m a somnambulist walking right into the hands of them |