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The hollow point bullet that bares my name was sold up in the Bronx just yesterday |
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The poison-tipped arrow that will pierce my heart was sold under the counter at a liquor store |
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The voice of God is Charlton Heston, he's told the FBI they should have me arrested |
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The bullets will fly but he'll never get the message that people with guns can never be trusted |
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Pardon my French but you've failed the test |
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Come on out of the trench with your hands on top of your head |
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In the beginning life sucked |
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You're hoping for a ditch but you end up in a rut |
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Now my radio reception is getting so much better |
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When I brush my teeth twice I can even get the weather |
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The voices never tell me just what I should do |
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But they make some good suggestion I can't refuse |
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They say the end is coming soon and life's on big cartoon |
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Milk cartons tell a story that I know is pretty gory |
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Those friends of my friends are enemies of mine |
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It's not hard to explain since there's no one on the line |
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It's been so long since I've had a full deck |
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I'm a few cards short and that's as close as I get |
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And I say Keith unroll the girl in the rug |
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You once were so cool but now you're fucked |
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When you wake up from this you'll need to look for new drugs |
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It's just like old times, you're about to get mugged |
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When they broke into my place I was chained to a chair |
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The channels still were switching but I didn't care |
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With a blink of my eyes I can see any show |
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It doesn't even matter that the picture tube's blown |
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So coming soon to Machete TV |
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Montel, Geraldo and Oprah and me |
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I'm guest number one |
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He drives a Mack truck |
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He married his daughter when they both were on drugs |
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There's a ghost of a chance |
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Pinhead angels can dance |
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We'll ask our next guest when she snaps out of her trance |
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So now let us remember our dear departed host |
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We're on the edge of our seats at the chance of his ghost |
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We're stalking all the stalkers |
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Our faith replaced our walkers |
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The Virgin's tears are real or the priest's a fast talker |
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Pardon my French, your brain's been benched |
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You've failed the test, pardon my French |