| Troubled girls, a two—
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| In pain, like sisters, grew
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| To release their hells
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| They’ll cut themselves
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| Under fatherless roofs
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| Troubled girls, a two—
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| Promiscuously screw
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| The hole within cannot be filled
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| A razor’s wit will now have to do
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| They fuck on mattresses stained foul—
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| The color of spilled wine
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| They sleep in emptiness
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| A deadbeat mother’s love, desired
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| A void, so chasmous
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| Mutilation is required
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| A ritual in secrecy
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| In opened flesh, they do confide
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| Beneath their clothing hides a map of scars—
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| Freakishly carved
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| Between their puckered lips, a waiting lie—
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| Hollow inside
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| Harlots, through and through
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| Singing nymphomania’s blues
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| Born with legs behind their heads
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| Their tattered flesh, they offer to you
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| Troubled girls, a two—
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| Victims of a world, so cruel
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| With blood they paint and masturbate
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| Young angels, marred, in vilest taboo
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| Scars, like brail, unto the touch
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| Keloid tributaries wind
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| When she splits her sister’s skin
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| O' how it flows, the blood divine
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| While mother is away, the girls will play
|
| (The girls will play!)
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| The Gemini of shame
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| The twins of pain, to bleed again
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| Mutual mutilation
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| Frenzied crimson masturbation
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| Endless cycle of depression
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| Whorish sexual reputation
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| Bulimic, chronic, pill-abusing
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| Lying, defaming, people-using
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| Why should you go on living?
|
| You were born to feed the worms!
|
| Beneath their clothing hides a map of scars—
|
| Freakishly carved
|
| Between their puckered lips, a waiting lie—
|
| Hollow inside
|
| While mother is away, the girls will play
|
| (The girls will play!)
|
| The Gemini of shame
|
| Twins of pain, to bleed again |