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A butchers grin from ear to ear |
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No one outside who can hear |
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Don't you think your time has come |
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- I hear - |
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Powders melt inside the cup |
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Don't you think she's drunk too much |
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Touch the lips that blueish cold |
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She's not too old |
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Turn the gas on high speed |
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Shut the windows tightly |
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Wrap the babies safe and warm |
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- I hear - |
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Pull the wings off lightly |
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Break the bones politely |
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Don't you think the time has come |
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To raise the line |
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A sweethearts sharpened kiss |
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Twenty-four marks on her breast |
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A lover gasp rings through the might |
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- I hear - |
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Pull the wings off lightly |
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Break the bones politely |
|
Don't you think the time has come |
|
- I hear - |
|
Powders melt inside the cups |
|
Don't you think she's drunk too much |
|
Touch the lips that blueish cold |
|
She's not too old |
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Blueish eyes through the earth stare |
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Frozen face without a care |
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Another chance to raise the line |
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- I hear - |