Take a look at your haircut. You're killing me.
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Take a look at your glasses. You're killing me.
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Placement of the piercings. You're killing me.
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Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight.
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Take a look at your ripped jeans. You're killing me.
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Take a look at your Converse. You're killing me.
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Get a shirt that fits you. You're killing me.
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Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight.
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Soon we'll be in the clear
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When we get out of here
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Where style is function
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And our egos make us fight.
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For now we'll live in fear.
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We're not sexy enough for this atmosphere.
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Someone blow it up tonight.
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Please blow it up tonight.
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Now we're cloning sheep.
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Writing garbage in their diaries.
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Reading their AP. Watching Fuse TV.
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Kill it, c'est la vie.
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Fashion show = your scene.
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Bomb the industry.
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Then run away or watch the blast.
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I'm getting out, man, kiss my ass.
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I'm going nowhere, nowhere fast.
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I'm going nowhere nowhere nowhere.
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Does Your Face Hurt? No? 'Cause It's Killing Me!!!
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Bomb The Music Industry! |