| Dead shot through the temple
|
| In the temple heard the preacher screech
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| I bored you full of holes Lucretia
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| Saw you crease up in a ball
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| As if you swallowed your own poison
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| Followed as you crawled up to the altar
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| I watched the tabernacle choir
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| Bawling in a bath of sacramental wine
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| You laced it but it tastes just fine to me
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| Yes '89's a good year
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| Let’s hear it now for bittersweet
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| Let’s hear it now for good old '89
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| Let’s hear it now for good old '89
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| We took our seats
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| We watched them stringing up a chicken
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| Kept on kicking
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| As they kicked away the chair
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| They fed it strychnine
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| We kept on staring sickened sordid
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| As you pulled another bullet
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| From my belt and fired
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| Count to nine
|
| Count to nine
|
| Count to nine
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| I caught it in my teeth
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| I licked it clean
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| I chewed it
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| I chewed it struck a match
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| I flew a dozen storeys to my stool behind a widow
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| Sure I’m small but big enough
|
| But I’m big enough to send a bullet through your head
|
| A bullet through the center of your head
|
| I’ll send a bullet through the center of your head
|
| Center bullet
|
| Rent a bullet
|
| A bullet through the center of your head
|
| A bullet through the center of your head
|
| Center bullet
|
| Rent a bullet
|
| A bullet through the center of your head |