| I ask: «Are we born into anger or does it bloom like a cancer?
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| The one that consumed your father
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| For no good reason and severed his chapter?»
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| We’re divided by a wavering expression
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| And I drink too much to cut the tension
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| You think you live for attention?
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| Man, look what I do for a pension
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| If we could trade for a moment
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| I’d feed you the virus that made me a showman
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| Perhaps it’s a matter of good parenting
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| Either way I’m a former American
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| Cracked out in the morning light
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| Fleeing quickly on all fours
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| I’m in knots for you, Goshua, Goshua
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| Severed from a former light
|
| Into the bowels of the night
|
| This all for you, Goshua, Goshua
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| A wealth of sexual organs
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| With nowhere kind to export them
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| Gushing from the seams with your fluids
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| And steeped in ritual action like a half-baked druid
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| I remember when we were pubeless
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| I remember we knew nothing of hubris
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| I remember you were sure you could do this
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| Before you decided you’re heavy and useless
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| Thick black sugar-fed abstract blood sap
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| One gun, bang bang, where’s your riot act?
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| Thick black sugar-fed abstract blood sap
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| One gun, bang bang, where’s your riot act?
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| You feel the weight of nowhere
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| Do you feel it? |
| Do you feel it?
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| Like all the kids you’ll never have come
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| To lynch you, lynch you
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| You are the «bitch they broke in»
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| You are the «whore they skinned alive»
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| Will they stand on you or will you stand up?
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| Can’t you even try?
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| You feel the weight of nowhere
|
| Can you feel it? |
| Can you feel it?
|
| Like all the love you’ll never make
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| Has come to haunt you, haunt you
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| You are the «bitch they broke in»
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| You are the «whore they skinned alive»
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| I know you have the strength to fight back
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| So why don’t you just try?
|
| Cracked out in the morning light
|
| Fleeing quickly on all fours
|
| I’m in knots for you, Goshua, Goshua
|
| Severed from a former light
|
| Into the bowels of the night
|
| This all for you, Goshua, Goshua |