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The myriad choices of his fate |
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set themselves out upon a plate |
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for him to choose what had he to lose |
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Not a ghost bloodied country all covered with sleep |
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where the black angel did weep |
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not an old city street in the east |
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gone to choose |
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And wandering's brother walked on through the night |
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with his hair |
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in his face |
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long a long splintered cut from a knife of G.T. |
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The Rally Man's patter ran on through the dawn |
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until we said so long to his skull |
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Shrill yell |
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Shining brightly, red rimmed and red lined with the time |
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effused with the choice of the mind on ice skates scraping |
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chunks |
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from the bells |
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Cut mouths bleeding razors forget in the pain |
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antiseptic remains coo goodbye |
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so you fly |
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to the cozy brown snow of the east |
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Gone to choose, choose again |
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Sacrificial remain make it hard to forget |
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where you come from |
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the stools of your eyes serve to realize pain |
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choose again |
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Roberman's refrain of the sacrilege recluse |
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for the loss of a horse |
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went the bowels in the tail of a rat |
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Come again, choose to go |
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And if epiphanies terror reduced you to shame |
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Have your head bobbed and weaved |
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Chose a side |
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to be on |
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If the stone glances off split didactics in two |
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Lay the colour of mouse trail's all's green try between |
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If you choose |
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If you choose |
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Try to lose |
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For the loss of remains come and start |
|
start the game |
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I Chi Chi |
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Chi Chi I |
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Chi Chi Chi |
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Ka Ta Ko |
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Choose to choose |
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Choose to lose |
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Choose to Go |