Watch them speak in thunderclaps
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No one more or much as Jack
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It's a knock 'em dead show: Pipes and joints, greased hinge and bone
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One more for the slaughterhouse
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CHANT
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Force from the butcher, machine-like
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One mighty hand at shoulder height
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Feet tread heavy on black floor, Look at the breadth of those fingers
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One more for the Chopping board
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CHANT
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Cast me in this violent light, Pull my hands from my eyes
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CHANT
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Thunderclaps fly through low-light
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Jack sits amongst them in the sky
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There's no place here for me tonight but Jack needs no invite
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Lunging for the meat and prize Lunging with his roving eyes
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CHANT
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Hours go by In thunderous form, I can't go on I can't go on
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RANT
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I'll do myself in, I'll pick up this thing
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Sits heavy in my hand
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I'll do myself in
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-----------------
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Thunderclaps
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The Horrors |