| The gears inside me grind,
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| to a rhythm that makes these sparks fly in my mind.
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| I make myself beautiful wih an absensce of complextion.
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| Cynical with hopes and dreams,
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| my white flag is raised and in this scheme,
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| I see the start to a new direction.`
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| Though failure is fleeting,
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| now the atmosphere’s retreating
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| Come on baby dive right in,
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| lets sin with a little skin on skin,
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| oh i’ve been knocking all night
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| but you still won’t let me in.
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| Come on baby dive right in,
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| lets sin with a little skin on skin,
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| ill make you finish first
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| and then i’ll add your ego in.
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| they scarcely corragate the surface with a wind of accidental burden,
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| we all wear lips that are cold bruised overused in tales of racy pasquinade
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| The wind might catch me,
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| capture and dispatch me |