| Once there was a purpose, once there was a voice
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| Its gotten so deluded, robbed of its claws
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| Picked, stripped, bones clean
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| Left the heart, took what you need
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| Watered down, now it’s just a parody
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| Once there was a reason, once there was a soul
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| Now just a paper tiger, roaring at the mall
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| Picked, stripped, bones clean
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| You’ve got the look, you’ve got the style
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| Left the substance, in a year where will you be
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| Somebody’s fakin' it
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| Somebody’s fakin' it
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| Somebody’s fakin' it
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| Somebody’s fake
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| Call you out, its not a comodity
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| Call you out, without integrity
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| Call you out, or an ego driven game
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| Call you out, let you in with open arms and open mind
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| You had a taste
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| You turn around, spit it out
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| And slap it right in the face
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| Somebody’s fakin' it
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| Look at them they’re fakin' it
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| Fakin' the punk |