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I was a lover, before this war |
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held up in a luxury suite, behind a barricaded door |
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now that I've cleaned up, gone legit |
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I can see clearly: round hole |
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round whole, square peg don't fit |
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I'm locked in my bedroom, so send back the clowns |
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my clone wears a brown shirt, and I seduce him when there's no one around |
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mano y mano, on a bed of nails |
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bring it on like a storm, till I knock the wind out of his sails |
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And we don't make eye contact, when we have run-in's in town |
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just a barely polite nod, and nervous stares towards the ground |
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I once joined a priest class, plastic, inert |
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in a slowdance with commerce |
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like a lens up a skirt |
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And we liked to party |
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and we kept it live |
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and we had a three volume tome of contemporary slang |
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to keep a handle on all this jive |
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Ennui unbridled, let's talk to kill the time |
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how many styles did you cycle through before you were mine? |
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and it's been a while since we went wild and that's all fine |
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but we're sleepwalking through this trial |
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and it's really a crime it's really a crime it's really a crime |
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it's really criminal |
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We're just busy tempting, like fate's on the nod |
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running on empty, bourbon and god |
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it's been a while since we knew the way |
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and it's been even longer since our plastic priest class |
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had a goddamned thing to say |
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I was a lover before this war. |