| There are days when I couldn’t fight my way out of a wet paper bag
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| Even if I had Edward Scissorhands hands
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| There are times I kick and scream and cry
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| Because I’m swept up in a hurricane
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| Of shit that hard to leave behind
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| This snowballs chances are fantastic
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| With elemental firm my past hell bent on escalating fast
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| There are days when I couldn’t fight my way out of a wet paper bag
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| Even if I had Edward Scissorhands hands
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| If I had Edward Scissorhands hands
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| I would whittle pogs into pentagrams
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| Like say hello to my little friends
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| Give me ten snip snip
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| Harvester of middle men
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| And thumbs pit against a bit of introspective sludge
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| In a moment of resenting he’s motivated of forgetting
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| Home
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| A den of grotesque over stepping
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| Where blood ain’t thick as a face full of spit
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| From a eucharistic minister enraged with his kid
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| The very same hand feeding Christ to parishioners
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| Later bunched tight
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| Punched lights out his miniatures
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| And images I don’t associate with my awareness anymore
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| But I’ve recently been daring to explore
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| Instead of bury
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| Schlep home juggle the wet stones
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| The handshakes sting
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| But the hug is a death code
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| The son of a spitfire
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| Show up in the wet snow
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| He’s cutting the tripwire
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| He’s opened a window
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| Like a mercenary gunning for a slumbering death stroke
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| In the penultimate seconds of a budding crescendo
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| These stone snows
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| Scissorhands bets
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| Cut a pig heart from a wicked mans chest
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| Maybe hang it high on a fence for a fantasy alive in the eyes of revenge
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| Oh
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| And accidentally injure every jam band
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| If I had Edward Scissorhands hands
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| Hmm.
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| I will wrap my arms around you
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| And I will not let them get through to harm you
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| My fingers will be just like barbed wire surrounding you
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| And I will not let them through
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| To do the things they want to do to you
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| I will wrap my arms around you
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| (I will wrap my arms around you)
|
| And I will not let them get through to harm you
|
| (I will wrap my arms around you)
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| There are days when I couldn’t fight my way out of a wet paper bag even if I
|
| had Edward Scissorhands hands
|
| (And I will not let them get through to harm you)
|
| (My fingers will be just like barbed wire surrounding you)
|
| There are times I kick and scream and cry because I’m swept up in a hurricane
|
| of shit that hard to leave behind
|
| (My fingers will be just like barbed wire surrounding you)
|
| This snowballs chances are fantastic with elemental firm my past hell bent on
|
| escalating fast
|
| (I know it’s hard I do it too always react even if I ever lose)
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| There are days when I couldn’t fight my way out of a wet paper bag even if I
|
| had Edward Scissorhands hands
|
| (I know it’s hard I do it too always react even if I ever lose)
|
| If I had Edward Scissorhands hands
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| If I had Edward Scissorhands hands |