| I can take my finger off, old dog, old trick
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| New twist like actually take the finger off
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| Wrap it in a blanket as you would a severed horse head
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| Mail it to a friend you wanna pinky swear more with and
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| Should they need a forearm or something they can practice drawing skulls on
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| Cut it from the shoulder while the saw’s warm
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| The full appendage really make a world of difference
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| Included too are 30 teeth to chew out all your critics
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| 32 would have been perfect, 2 were casualties of it’s it’s-
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| I always wanted radder things for Christmas
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| The rest were cool
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| I’m shipping out a torso in the a. |
| m
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| You should learn to hit the organs every time at 40 paces — it’s important
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| I can’t explain why now, by the way
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| Legs in a crate delivery by today
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| If a uniformed man knock knocks, sign his document
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| You shouldn’t have to walk out to the mailbox for the other shit
|
| My mom was a lunch lady when I was in elementary school
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| She was outside during recess
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| She had a whistle and I thought that that was cool
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| She was really nice to all the kids who didn’t have a lot of friends
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| She would give them hugs and tell them jokes or she’d play catch with them
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| And, my dad worked at the laundromat which was really cool to me
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| I’d get to open up the washing machines
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| And clean them out and collect the money
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| And I’d open soap dispenser and put new little boxes of soap inside
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| I knew how it worked and I was good at it
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| And helping out filled me with a sense of pride
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| I would meet all kinds of people there and I would look them in the eye
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| And I’d say «Hi! |
| Excuse me, but do you mind
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| If I shine the glass while your clothes dry?»
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| My whole life is a
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| (My whole life is a delicate cycle)
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| A delicate cycle, a delicate cycle
|
| Inside a jar with a lid, a giant arm with head
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| They said it used to walk upright and like New York after ten
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| One day it woke up out of order, nothing more to extend
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| Delicate cycle in the alpha of its orbiting zen
|
| When interpersonal skill is already poor at its best
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| A conversation can be riddled with exorbitant debt
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| And you don’t know it, but I know I owe you more than I’ve kept
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| So if you find a biohazard by your door on the step
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| Maybe it couldn’t find its faculties, but swore it would help
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| Wanted to be a larger part than its abnormalcies let
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| Hang on, I’m overnighting eyes with a headlight-deer stare
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| One up, Vin Van, UPS an ear pair
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| Wear 'em if you need a new perspective on a weird year
|
| And one day when I’m better we can square away a fair share
|
| The last frame silhouetted by the sun
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| Was an air mail stamp on a still warm tongue
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| I was 26 years old the first time I lived in a house
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| With a washer and dryer in it and that’s the year I bottomed out
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| Maybe what was missing was the sense of community that comes from
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| Hauling your big old load out in public and airing your dirty laundry
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| And the company of other people who also don’t have the amenities
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| At their convenience in a home that’s so set up that they never have to leave
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| I miss the smell, the dust, the coins, the trust
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| The squeaky carts, the vibrations
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| The bucket full of bleach, the dryer sheets
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| The old pay phone, the giant sink
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| I’d watch my daddy mop the floor
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| And my heart started with a quarter
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| I’d watch my daddy mop the floor
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| And my heart started with a quarter |