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I'll just get the oars |
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And push myself right off |
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How could I hold myself liable |
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Under such madness, do pray tell |
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Faces of bottles read through the night |
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Swaying in context, warning light |
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Yet another patron is dedicated |
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To this last jam |
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It's only 40 seconds till the show begins |
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Watch the screaming squabble of drunken state |
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Son, another grayscale of apathy in such a place |
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Not much time for reaction if one is wake |
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For fear of contracting such vile taste |
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This has been the last time |
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He'll leave here almost deadly undone |
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Pre-empt of fear |
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10 seconds now till the curtain is raised |
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Cold sweat seeps from his liquored brow |
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No one to throw the ring |
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One foot of water now |
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In panic stricken reigned he forgets how to swim |
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I'll scratch another from the cleansing post |
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It's almost a rush to reach for the blade |
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It goes from shame to shambles in less than days |
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Natural selection with a shove I'll take it from here. |