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There's something in the way you crucify me, |
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it makes me smile |
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And when you offer up your sacrament you |
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drown the whole world in your bile |
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You can sail on waves of shit and type your |
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pointless, ancient fingers to the bone |
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But when your vessel sinks you'll drown in it |
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and know that you've done |
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Nothing of your own |
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There's something in the way you evil eye me |
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and throw your glare |
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They can masquerade as fire but behind your |
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eyes there's nothing but dead air |
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You admire your reflection staring back at you |
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from pools of shallow prose |
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But when you meet yourself in mirrors you will |
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know that you've done nothing of your own |
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I think I'm gonna die awhile, I'm gonna hang on |
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wood and try to smile |
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And when the peasents with their pitchforks |
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come |
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I'm gonna spit blood down on everyone |
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They're all scum |