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Suspicious in bright light, |
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Too much red rim around the white, |
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Cheap silk that wraps the body tight, |
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And one by one, seconds drip by |
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There's nothing they can do to her, |
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That hasn't been done before, |
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Bit it's sweet they try. |
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Not a single tree in sight, |
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Fluorescents strip the skin bone dry, |
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Pock marks fill and shadows fight |
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There's nothing they can do to her, |
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That hasn't been done before, |
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But it's sweet they try, |
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But it's sweet they try. |
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One heel is broken, |
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Her hands do shake, |
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And ranting is her speech, |
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Wrong is always on the way, |
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It makes you watch her, |
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With all your thoughts deranged, |
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The challenge is to put her last, |
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Humility to shame, |
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There's something in the stare though, |
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It's not for sure she's there, |
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Dirty strands to veil the face, |
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Small tattoos named big mistakes, |
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She whispers when she talks, |
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Strangling bottles of escape, |
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Violent sympathy, white rage, |
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Violent sympathy white rage |
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Hold on tight and start to squeeze, |
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Blank expression in degrees |
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This is not at all your best, |
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Try your hardest do your worst, |
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Try your hardest do your worst, |
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This is not at all your best, |
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Hold on tight and start to squeeze, |
|
Blank expression in degrees. |
|
Suspicious in bright light, |
|
Too much red rim around white, |
|
Cheap silk that wraps the body tight, |
|
And one by one, seconds drip by |
|
There's nothing they can do to her, |
|
That hasn't been done before, |
|
But it's sweet they try. |
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Belted to the waist, |
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On stilts of trembling, |
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The locket hinge digs in, |
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Like marks of teeth on skin, |
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The memory half dust, |
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Just shapes of fading rust, |
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That moves when she's alone, |
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And speaks to no one home. |