| Proprietors of Red and Priests against Prozac
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| Propose one hour of messainic mozart
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| Wolfgang Amadeus a.k.a. Muzak
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| Got himself a VISA and went wild in the popmart
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| The 23rd player thrashing the rest of his team
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| Flashed his ability to discard the mainstream
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| Largo to presto he grieves the accelerando’s finite
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| Headphones on tight more beats per minute
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| Stepping on his watch enters the state of Freedia
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| Fucking the hostility inherent in the media
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| From chronological to kairological
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| Measure of the linear time unjustly installed
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| As the distinguo between work and pleasure
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| Serial time personal sublime
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| Immortalizing the point on the time
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| That’s meandered in a circle
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| The revolution of all the small parts that constitute the cosmos
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| In which you speed for a paradise
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| Moving just ahead but slightly faster
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| Middle-aged monster get out of here!
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| Cyclical patterns don’t fit your square ear
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| Sensing so slowly you mistake the Sunset of Sole
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| For the longed-for legendary sunrise of old
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| Your sexist ratio pervades the hearts
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| Your racist sexio misinterprets the arts
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| Decay’s seized your sensorial protection
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| The only thing evil’s your own perception
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| We rest on day seven
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| On day eight we blast heaven |