| You reap what you sow, believe me I know
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| I’m the sorriest peasant around,
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| the crops are expanding, ever demanding
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| As my seeds are spread to the ground
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| So what is the problem, complaining 'bout something
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| What others would kill to become
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| A promise of purity, honor and chastity
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| Disgraced so they mount up to none
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| Prepare myself when the onslaught comes
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| Shutting off what I never had
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| Am I bad
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| Prepare myself when the onslaught comes
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| Everything’s so much clearer
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| When the lights are bad
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| Supply and demand, an easy stand
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| When you’ve given up on everything
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| Clung to the numbness, expanding the numbers
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| Waiting for something to ring
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| Embracing denial, breathe air for a while
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| Nothing means everything now
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| Accepting the meangless course of our being here
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| Makes it easier somehow
|
| Prepare myself when the onslaught comes
|
| Shutting off what I never had
|
| Am I bad
|
| Prepare myself when the onslaught comes
|
| Everything’s so much clearer
|
| When the lights are bad |