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Hey Mr. Chips, how's the wife? |
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And are the kids still poison? Do you still eat them? |
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Been under the gun, running the guns |
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Say how'd this world get so fucking fun all of a sudden? |
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Here's a quarter for the phone |
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Why don't you call someone and find out? |
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How it is we can all belong to something that |
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No one wants any part of? |
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One day you'll wake up |
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And they'll be advertising on police cars |
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And your death will sell you out |
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As someone smart, somewhat smart |
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Baby, don't get out out of bed |
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Just lay back down your pretty head |
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And they're advertising on police cars |
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Hey Mr. Chips, had me a notion |
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Like a burning sky dropped to the ocean |
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A bitter pill, is it better still to lay undone your guts for show? |
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To reconstruct some of your bones? To turn it up? |
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When it calls to you will you wake up? |
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They're advertising on police cars |
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Your death will sell you out as someone smart |
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Somewhat smart |
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Baby, don't get out of bed |
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Just lay back down your pretty head |
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They're advertising on police cars |