| what do they call it when another force is is your hand?
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| and what will they say when they find me here this way?
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| and know, know, know, know, that it wasn’t my idea
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| no it wasn’t my idea
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| but oh, just to see your face when you find me here like this
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| now there’s no time for wondering
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| darkness is now at my door
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| rapping with his thorny fingers
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| he’s come to take me home
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| he’ll envelope me in sleep
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| wrapped in black feathered wings
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| but before we fly- here’s my goodbye
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| i get the last word, i’ll have the last laugh
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| sure as the room is growing cold
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| i’ll have the last word, i’ll have the last laugh
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| sure as my blood is running cold
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| they won’t call it suicide
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| cuz i’ve got the killers name engraved so deeply in my veins
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| they will call it homocide
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| cuz i’ve got your name so clearly carved into my wrist
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| the weak and the lame
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| will find their way to escape
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| but why should i leave all this beauty behind
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| and forfeit the joy in my life in the name of the name in vain? |
| *
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| i’ll have the last word, i’ll have the last laugh
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| sure as the room is growing cold
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| i’ll have the last word, i’ll have the last laugh
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| sure as your blood is running cold
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| far be it for i to leave all this beauty behind
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| i will stay to watch you wither away
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| and with any luck you may be hit by a truck
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| and i will remain to dance upon your grave
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| oh look and you see how much your death means to me
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| please won’t you play in a busy street?
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| far be it for i to leave all this beauty behind
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| and i will remain to dance upon your grave |