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All the words in my mouth |
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That the scene deemed unworthy of letting out |
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Banded together to form a makeshift militia |
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And burrowed bloodily through my tongue and my teeth |
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And I stood proud in the gallery |
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With my open socket of a mouth for them to see |
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They all just laughed and said |
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"That boy, he..." |
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That boy's got woe, woe |
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He lives with woe, woe |
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And this girl who I met |
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Whose pride makes her hard to forget |
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She took pity on me horizontally |
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But most likely because of my band |
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And that's all I can get when I'm lonely |
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And these visions of death seem to own me |
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In the quiet of the classrooms |
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All across the stacked United States of Woe |
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We live with woe |
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She said I can't get laid in this town |
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Without these pointy fucking shoes |
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My feet are so black and blue |
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And so are you |
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Please take me out of my body up through the palm trees |
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To smell California and sweet hypocrisy |
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Floating, my senses surround my body |
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I wake my nose to smell that ocean burn |
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So now I'm forging ahead past all the plutocrats who sold me out |
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Go sob in your bed, if life is twice as pretty once you're dead |
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Then send me a card, I'm still the optimist though it is hard |
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When all you want to be is in a dream |