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Fame Throwa pass out the gold |
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The diamond watch, the last reward |
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All the things we had before |
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You sold us out and took it all |
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Head-borne cries from zenith sluts |
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Astral rites from dead end ruts |
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These ends are sick end wars |
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These ends was sick end wars |
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It's one of our nation's spies |
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It's one of our first recruits |
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I click with her leather thighs |
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It's one of our first recruits |
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How can you know |
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In the distance lies a grower |
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Nee Rudolph |
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King of Fame |
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ThrowaSon of groupie, red-worn sexan |
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His cash convincing us |
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That the desert was a star scape |
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And took our lives for a |
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Satellite so we could cry |
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It's one of our nation's spies |
|
It's one of our first recruits |
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I click with her leather thighs |
|
It's one of our first recruits |