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officers
You should be ducking sir I see the officers of the law Your rampage has been noted It's time for your withdraw The city is in ruin A path of sin in your wake You thought we would cheer you But that wasn't your only mistake
soil
I know you try to soil my name No one believes you If they have half a brain You are trying a smear campaign Is it working for you Or is it reflecting your pain Some people will follow you But they are stupid And can't think for themselves Keep flinging your mud It's only sticking to yourself
shows
Your callous actions Show your sickly side That mindless mumbling Is quite hard to hide Your getting older People are seeing why We avoid your presence You're a sad little guy
now
Kill me now Her text said She was stuck Alone in her head I felt bad For her fate Her world's foul And it's too late
fire
The fire in my belly Is ripping through my soul It tears at my conscience And leaves a barren hole Time will only tell me If life has been for nought Sweat on my brow dripping My dreams are what I sought
procedure
This is a yearly procedure You need to listen very well Always proceed from right to left That is the tome of wrapping hell Have your tape within grabbing reach And Your paper properly sized Remember to label when done Or your boyfriend will be surprised
actual
This is the time The actual time And this the place The very place Where science is absent And the world awaits The crazies are beating Their looneytune drums And educated people Plug their arse with their thumbs
scatter
Scatter the sparkles mate Your highness is leaving Dainty toes don't touch ground Is what he's believing Is it possible sir To separate your head From your most royal arse Or would you fall quite dead Bloated by your own farce
season
The reason for the season Is complicated and vain Some believe it's Jesus From a manger his light came But maybe it's the pagans To celebrate the full moon Maybe it's ancient Horis She had a virginal womb No one can claim this season Political correctness is dumb You can't stop the believers It belongs to everyone
sate
You cannot sate my passion You should not even try I devour what also consumes me There is never enough supply Mindlessly embracing This habit now my chore Exhaustingly ecstatic Fill up this junky whore
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