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He'll chase away the skeletons harboured in your Christian closets |
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Salutations to a passenger of guilty trips |
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Of guilty trips well travelled |
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Well travelled and travelling |
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Thoughts of glory holes |
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Of angel kisses |
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Of golden showers |
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All cured by a holy bottle of H2O |
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So shock me Peter |
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This is the day |
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For this unruly soul to make its getaway |
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Shock me Peter |
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Clear the way |
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You're selling lies but it's enough to make me say |
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Get away |
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A diluted broth of plastic pop songs birthed of sunlight and toxic glitter |
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Fed unto the wanting spoonfuls of formaldehyde laced with a pinch of ginger |
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And the midnight people banished by oil-slickened productions |
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My zombie honey, do you realise what you've done? |
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Your loneliness is killing us |
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Ruled and ruling |
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Beckoned by the beckoning |
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So shock me Peter |
|
This is the day |
|
For this unruly soul to make its getaway |
|
Shock me Peter |
|
Clear the way |
|
You're selling lies but it's enough to make me say |
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Get away |
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Get away from your golden arches |
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Your pre-packaged prophets designed to conduct your choreographed lives |
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Morals for immortality |
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Quarrels for brutality |
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Blank stares and stifling yawns all fed to the broken masses |
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Wash it all away |
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Angry egos and holy placebos will cast away the rotting |
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With your Hollywood gods all built on a mountain of recycled flesh |
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Dead eyes fashioned with wide smiles |
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It's hard to stay beautiful without the tender touch of a scalpel's knife |
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Tell me your stories |
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Tell me your glories |
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Tell me your light and I'll tell you my dark |
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So shock me Peter |
|
This is the day |
|
For this unruly soul to make its getaway |
|
Shock me Peter |
|
Clear the way |
|
You're selling lies but it's enough to make me say |
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Get away |