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Cloudy, Muggy The day's all shitty as hell |
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Fighting Phaenic spells, the citys the real |
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Quarter delay at a quarter to six |
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I'm sorry lady done stepped on my kicks, voluptuous tricks |
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Fucking around, and it sucks to be you, |
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But I guess living a lie is a luxury too. |
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It probably plain to say that some strange days |
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And any-which-way let a man convey it |
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Commit to his terms no need for concern, |
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From his own mistakes, yeah baby you must learn |
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Hand full of tricks, A fist full of motivation, |
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Flailing punches, swinging without hesitation |
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Snooping around, ain't no buried treasure, |
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It's just sunken ships and short-lived pleasures, |
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It's the simple things that brick up a foundation, |
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like a mound of patience gets you a pound of waiting. |
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I'm hating cause there ain't much love in my life, |
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it's just drugs, jobs, and a bundle of gripes. (What?) |
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Haven't you heard, it's a modern condition, |
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A band of glitches, and a mob of bitching. |
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A crowd of adversaries, the more the merrier, |
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I ain't going down without a fight til' my burial, |
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You broke the barrier, and fell off it's spokes, |
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Now it's tumbling down and it's waking the folks. |
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(Chorus) |
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Guess these ailments come along with the territory, |
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A better story, now you're telling me what's better for me. |
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Mellow shorty, wanna chill with the kin(?) folks. |
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Smoke weed and be down with those inside jokes. (haha) |
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Bubble(?) of mischief, let's take you to the disco, |
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There's talk of the demo, but still no disc, though. |
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Provoke Panic, how strange they demand it, |
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In a city of millions, how one can feel STRANDED. |
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Hand to the heart, now one can feel the tempo, |
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One empty bottle and one written-verse memento. |
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All in all, Still sorta like a good day, |
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One ice cube for this growing pain tooth-ache. |
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Baked on a monday, the Misses is still snoring, |
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Ignoring the foley, imagination is soaring, |
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Designing women with a fat ass like Delta Burke, |
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Working girls still find time just to make it work. |
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B-B-Back to the drawing board, |
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Scribbled her vaguely, |
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Jot then a mock, frown, Why the long face, B? |
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Neglect is heard, I must have been stabbed or something, |
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Blood Curdling, The wound is now settling. |
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In stitches, the broken hand counts riches, |
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Was it as hard, maybe they broke his spirit, |
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Only time will tell, they've just began to hear it. |
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The mic store it, You can't come near it. |