There's a cold liar under these soles there's a place i can hide where no one ever goes cut to these feelings straight through the ceiling tonight an electrical king with a crown of live thorns says we all want it black and white like our lives time will erase him his hopes his dreams our fears but bloody hands remain the country so unclear and all that we've done is just bury the gun if we don't see this now then we never will push in the potion you've quelled the commotion i'll say an oswaldian theory he's the one don't get near me we all want it anyway...
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