| Are you hanging
|
| Onto sentiment
|
| Like a child hangs
|
| From its mother’s breast?
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| And in regards to selflessness
|
| From a woman self-obsessed…
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| Are you pregnant
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| With that suckling pig?
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| Will you birth it
|
| Or will it stay attached?
|
| And on the topic of regret
|
| Has the thought consumed you yet?
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| Are you benign? |
| Are you malignant?
|
| If I cut you out, will you grow right back?
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| If you could only see yourself through foreign eyes you’d see that you’re
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| disgusting
|
| Oh my! |
| You’ve grown another head. |
| Mirror, mirror
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| Which one is the dom? |
| Oh my, oh my my
|
| With so many faces and so many eyes
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| How are you so blind, so blind?
|
| Because you love yourself so well
|
| You will not cut umbilical
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| Absorb their muscles, every cell
|
| Your body is an orphanage to horrors
|
| Oh my! |
| You’ve grown another tongue. |
| Mirror, mirror
|
| Which one is the dom? |
| Oh my, oh my my
|
| With so many limbs and so many digits
|
| How are you so senseless, so callous?
|
| Because you love yourself so well
|
| You will not let your offspring out
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| You wrap your innards 'round their throat
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| Your body is a prison, is a hell and
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| If you could only see your skin through foreign eyes you’d see it’s stretching
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| thin
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| And mid-crowning, suck it back in
|
| Are you benign? |
| Are you malignant?
|
| If I cut you out, will you grow right back?
|
| There’s no smell of afterbirth
|
| No crying babies to be heard (Ooh-ahh)
|
| The sound of prisoners moaning through
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| Stretching epidermal goo (Ooh-ahh)
|
| Oh, I, I
|
| Cause you love yourself so well
|
| None shall pass through your birth canal
|
| You’d sooner knot it off yourself
|
| Your body is a wet and weaving labyrinth
|
| Because you only love yourself
|
| You’ll spread your legs for no one else
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| An incubated prison cell
|
| No bodies get to leave
|
| Now that you can fuck yourself you’ll be content, need nothing else
|
| This true love is gruesome
|
| Getting sick (Ooh-ahh)
|
| You’re all filled up with afterbirth
|
| Pray to science you fucking burst
|
| (A seam will open, you’ll feel nothing at first, but like a crack in a
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| windshield it spreads and)
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| We’ll drape this town in scenes of red
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| At city hall we’ll keep your head
|
| A monument to abstinence
|
| A monument to altruism
|
| Reminder there is consequence
|
| (With that being said, I must ask)
|
| Have you been sleeping?
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| Because you look like shit
|
| Staying up all night trying
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| To get yourself pregnant |