All aboard, the ride goes faster,
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being driven by the spooky bastard,
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look left, dirt infested,
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living large with the debt invested.
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Gung ho, Mr. Murder,
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could be a while but you look no further,
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snip, snip, scissor quickstep,
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cut the line, you are out of your depth.
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Bring home the bacon bastard,
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a meaty fringe in a leather casket,
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fuck that - I eat my offspring,
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hang myself on a leather heartstring.
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Cut the page from the new york times,
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see I'm not so bad after all,
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you'll never get held in my outstretched arms,
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cos I won't catch you when you fall,
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pull the trigger at your picnic table,
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take the scissors from your baby doll,
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you'll never get to heaven with a face like that,
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and I won't catch you when you fall.
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Flick flick, another station,
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listen hard but I'm losing patience,
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another aim, absurdist brainwash,
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another bent pair of scissor (?)
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Sick baby - move at a hearbeat,
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when I'm bloody on a (?) bedsheet,
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blood bitch (?) reflex,
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another bent pair of scissor defects.
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Here baby - I'm out to get you,
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a broken heart in a broken test tube,
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a virus scare for those who care,
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don't look alive cos you'll go nowhere.
|
|
Cut the page from the new york times,
|
see I'm not so bad after all,
|
you'll never get held in my outstretched arms,
|
'cos I won't catch you when you fall,
|
pull the trigger at your picnic table,
|
take the scissors from your baby doll,
|
you'll never get to heaven with a face like that,
|
and I won't catch you when you fall.
|
|
-----------------
|
Scissor Quickstep
|
The Damage Manual |