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Yeah, I wonder how the hell personal space became |
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A personal box without a light to crash the door to life |
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The need to look at ourselves radically and try to strip |
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Ourselves of the insulation that has surronded us again |
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Fighting the growing conspiracy, energy drives my hate |
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This is 2000, let's touch our glasses, but are we having fun yet |
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You end up worrying about worry, aren't we just a bunch of pussies |
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A society whose chief weapon is the consumerist hypercane |
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Which insists the IKEA flatpacks will make you wellrounded |
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Ripping wounds that never heal for others to throw salt on it |
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But you'll see the pain is what I need to dig your grave, asshole |
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You end up worrying about worry, aren't we just a bunch of pussies |
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Fighting the growing conspiracy, energy drives my hate |
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This is 2000, let's touch our glasses, but are we having fun yet |
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You end up worrying about worry, aren't we just a bunch of pussies |