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There is an old tradition |
[00:05.6] |
A game we all can play |
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It starts by getting liquored up and sharpening your blade |
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You take a shot of whiskey and grab your knife and pray |
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And spread apart your fingers |
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Then this is what you say |
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Oh, I have all my fingers |
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The knife goes chop, chop, chop |
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If I miss the spaces in between my fingers will come off |
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And if I hit my fingers the blood will soon come out |
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But all the same I play this game, 'cause that's what it's all about |
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No, you can't use a pencil |
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Can aren't use a pen |
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The only way is with a knife when danger is your friend |
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And some may call it stupid |
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Some may call it dumb |
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But all the same we play this game, because it's so damn fun |
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Oh, I have all my fingers |
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The knife goes chop, chop, chop |
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If I miss the spaces in between my fingers will come off |
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And if I hit my fingers the blood will soon come out |
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But all the same I play this game, 'cause that's what it's all about |
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Oh, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop |
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I'm picking up the speed |
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And if I hit my fingers, then my hand will start to bleed |
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