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America, I've given you all and now I'm nothing |
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America, two dollars and twenty-seven cents January 17, 1956 |
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I can't stand my own mind |
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America, when will we end the human war |
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Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb |
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I don't feel good, don't bother me |
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I won't write my poem till I'm in my right mind |
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America, when will you be angelic |
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When will you take off your clothes |
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When will you look at yourself through the grave |
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When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites |
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America, why are your libraries full of tears |
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America, when will you send your eggs to India |
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I'm sick of your insane demands |
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When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks |
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America, after all, it is you and I who are perfect, not the next world |
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Your machinery is too much for me |
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You made me want to be a saint |
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There must be some other way to settle this argument |
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Burroughs is in Tangiers |
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I don't think he'll come back, it's sinister |
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Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical joke |
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I'm trying to come to the point |
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I refuse to give up my obsession |
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America, stop pushing, I know what I'm doing |
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America, the plum blossoms are falling |
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I haven't read the newspapers for months |
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Everyday somebody goes on trial for murder |