| In this act I’ll disguise those dead eyes, stretch tight the lips,
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| a glistening gum line
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| Mouth curtains pulled I shine
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| My yellow stage light smile distracting
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| Dancing puppets on short saliva strings
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| So you’ll find comfort in a lie
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| My overbite clenched, set in place
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| Like a stack of polished bright white dinner plates
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| Hand in my pocket, straight jacket mind
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| It’s getting easy
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| I wish I had a single thought the least bit legitimate enough
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| To open up my mouth and spit accuracy
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| It’s getting easy
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| In this act I’ll disguise those dead eyes, lay flat the tongue
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| Let the supplement slide down
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| Everything is fine
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| And my brain is cloudy, leveled out
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| The pill dissolved
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| It’s flushing out everything I care about and not replacing it with anything
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| substantial
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| So I’m on my hands and knees
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| Like a martyr calling out his final plea
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| The executioner looks exactly like me, it’s me
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| It’s getting easy
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| My overbite clenched so tight
|
| Like a stack of dinner plates all polished white
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| Hands at my sides, straight jacket mind
|
| It’s getting easy
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| I wish I had a single thought the least bit legitimate enough
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| And I wish I had a single thought the least legitimate enough
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| And I wish I wasn’t on my hands and knees
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| Like a martyr calling out his final plea
|
| The executioner looks exactly like me, it’s me
|
| It’s getting easy
|
| In this act I’ll disguise those dead eyes
|
| Like a stack of dinner plates all polished white
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| Hands at my side, straight jacket mind, alright
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| It’s getting easy |