The kittens were murdered
Thrown into burlap sacks

Painted a portrait of you in pastel
Red and yellow and orange

And you're a pretty lady
And that means I'm gonna kill you

And liking malarking and licking our wounds
We've created by lusting and lying to ourselves and to others

He had a white face, he had black eyes
He had burns all over his body and he was right

Oh, and I have also wondered if that baby lives his life, what kind of life will the baby lead, and will the baby ever be happy?
No, his heart will be bloated and swollen, just like his soul

For giving me such high standards
I'm mad at you

One for the hard drugs in my body
And two for the bad drinks in my tummy

And burdened by his loneliness he wanted to feel alive
His laziness built the pyramids and his solitude was a knife

With their violence and pomposity
So fucking straightedge getting high off of self-righteousness

First we are babies, we're birthing and dying
And then we are children, we're playing and crying

No more bummers
No more SUVs and no more Hummers

I wanna be the queen of all the belly rubs now
I'm gonna quit my job

I'm gonna love my children
In the hopes that they will too

We fled to shelter safe and pure
But now I never feel at home

And why didn't Mirah come to Phoenix?
Because the modified is too small

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