| All your two-bit psychiatrists
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| Are giving you electric shock
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| They said they’d let you live at home with mom and dad
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| Instead of mental hospitals
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| But every time you tried to read a book
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| You couldn’t get to page 17
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| 'Cause you forgot where you were
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| So you couldn’t even read
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| Don’t you know they’re gonna kill your sons
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| Don’t you know they’re gonna kill, kill your sons
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| They’re gonna kill, kill your sons
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| Until they run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run away
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| Mom informed me on the phone
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| She didn’t know what to do about dad
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| He took an axe and broke the table
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| Aren’t you glad you’re married?
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| And sister, she got married on the island
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| And her husband takes the train
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| He’s big and he’s fat
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| And he doesn’t even have a brain
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| They’re gonna kill your sons
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| Don’t you know they’re gonna kill, kill your sons
|
| Don’t you know they’re gonna kill, kill your sons
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| Until they run away
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| Creedmoor treated me very good
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| But Payne Whitney was even better
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| And when I flipped out on PHC
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| I was so sad, I didn’t even get a letter
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| All of the drugs that we took
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| It really was lots of fun
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| But when they shoot you up with thorazine on crystal smoke
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| You choke like a son of a gun
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| Don’t you know they’re gonna kill your sons
|
| Don’t you know they’re gonna kill, kill your sons
|
| Don’t you know they’re gonna kill, kill your sons
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| Until they run, run, run, run, run, run, run away |