| From Bourbon to Bexhill it’s murder, death, kill
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| The Earth is like a ferris wheel we all just sit still
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| Satan’s drill oil spilled all into my gills
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| What a world, what a world we leave for children to rebuild
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| But that’s another time, another project, another budget, another rhyme
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| Another purpose, another circus, another clown car, another mind
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| On the other line, I heard a voice that cried as if I hurt her soul
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| The decision cut across my throat between my ears was surgical
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| From 90 degrees vertical to a 180 flatline
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| From all these and those I just wish I could take back that time
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| You know the one, where you did the thing and you know you shouldn’t of done
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| that
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| The pain was like a boomerang that karma always brung back
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| A woman scorned is a page torn, a bridge burned, et cetera
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| A picture’s worth a thousand words so welcome to the cinema
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| In the words of Rex Mills, «the cemetery of love is filled with murder, death,
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| kill.» |