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Belle Glade missionaries are here to steal your cocaine
You better send your malaria to puncture their brains
Send them back to where they came from
Send them back to the savannahs of disease

From your first psychotic episode to your juggernoose schitzophrenia
It's your dysphoric mania that makes you so likeable
That makes everyone want to save you
Save you only for themselves

They're letting children get blown up in their schools today
So they can get them back into their factories
I know it pains me to see you all being so betrayed
But I guess you'll never know so it doesn't matter
Doesn't matter

Those people must be high because the bitter winter winds
Have made the bones of my jaw go hollow and there's a scent
That there's a prowler on the prairie
Leaving hair on the walls
We helped to flatten the sound abound down below the street
And my greatest fear is release into someone else's consciousness
And still there's these razors to pretend with

They're letting children get blown up in their schools today
Just so they can get them back into their factories
You know it pains me to see you all being so betrayed
But I guess you'll never know so it doesn't matter

I have a sense you want to be the female Henry Miller
Cynically referring to your lovers as your pricks
And exploiting other people's madness
Ah nemesis, you claimed to have called out to me
Telepathically through our archaic mediums
But i never once heard you so I think you were just lying again
Feel like I'm in Beckett's Malloy
Like some nature people avoid
Like my talents been destroyed
Like I'm some paraspectral voice
With no choices at the present
Still there's a value in things unpleasant

While you post naked GIFs of your epileptic fits
And keep track of your hits
While your friends don't give a shit
They view your fugues with amusement
All the evils in the universe, there are no victims
Only participants

They're letting children get blown up in their schools today
So they can get them back into their factories
It pains me to see you all being so betrayed
But I guess you'll never know so it doesn't matter

Can't trust my instincts lately
They don't feel organic
They feel more synthetic
They feel more synthetic
They feel more synthetic
Synthetic
Synthetic



Lyrics taken from http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/o/of_montreal/belle_glade_missionaries.html

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