I need to mutilate
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We're going to celebrate our emotional poverty
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Give the answers all away
|
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I painted my suitcase red for the reading
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Which only ended in conversation rape
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All they want, genetic telephonic pills
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Until the Spanish kids got so ill
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I was home-schooling with a knife in my shoe
|
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Never seen corpses act so cruel
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The self brutality was oh so angular
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I made him a potion in a newspaper cup,
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Smiled, gave me a shrug, said I was a fuck-up
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Now I see your face selling Chinese urine
|
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She came over the fence
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With an argument in her head, no empathy
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Escape strategy
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I understood her
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We were trying to share a genuine human moment
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Just like the way they do in movies
|
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I've hit a wall with this suicidal depression
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It's not the star I'm trying to call
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I've been standing on the strand far too long y'all
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Go ahead, go ahead!
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What you want? somebody who will slap away your blindness?
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What you want? somebody who would corrupt your heart with too much kindness?
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Salute to your Busta Rhymes-ness
|
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I got a black fang in Chicago
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My superwoman licked
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I don't need a refill of this shit,
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I need something that works motherfucker!
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I wondered were you flattered, I tried to get you drunk
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I know you're collecting disciples
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I know you want to be the godmother of soul-punk
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Someday, someday
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They're all skyscrapers for you Jane
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Never use your given name
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I want to set you up for a sequel
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Make you feel like promised people
|
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I always knew you were special
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Your best friend told me he saw you crying
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Everybody wants to crescendo
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Take home a memento
|
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We tried to isolate XX infinite pleasure XY
|
Yet I still was their family secret,
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A white symptom of some wilderness hate ceremony,
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Custodian for experimental post human relationships, in fact
|
We tried to isolate XX infinite pleasure XY ineffectually,
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Now I know I'm not allowed to show the pain,
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Not allowed to expose the pain
|
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I still was their family secret,
|
A white symptom of some wilderness hate ceremony,
|
Custodian for experimental post human relationships, in fact
|
We tried to isolate XX infinite pleasure XY ineffectually,
|
Now I know i'm not allowed to show the pain,
|
Not allowed to expose the pain
|
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All the white people from my neighborhood are dead
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All the black people have turned pink for the winter
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Everybody is searching for a cause
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A reason to blow themselves up
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Could be anything
|
When will certain people realize
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That an afterlife is nothing to live for
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Nothing to die for
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Nothing to fight for
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If those in this life are not sacred
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Then nothing that is a part of it
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Is sacred either
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If you think God is more important than your neighbor
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You're capable of terrible evil
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If you think some prophet's words
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Are more important than your brother
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And your sister,
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You're ill
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And you're wrong
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You're wrong
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-----------------
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You Do Mutilate?
|
Of Montreal |