This Is Only A Test

The Paper Chase

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    Hara-kiri kids come kill yourselves
    Slice your throats and spurt the blood
    Paint a wall cloud weather cell
    A vortex of self
    Put your tongue in the mouth of the old funnel cloud, adel

    I have become pregnant with myself
    Bloated bellies distended out like corpses sweat and swell
    We fucked ourselves
    We let our thighs fall to each side of the cyclone they sell

    And there will be no pie graphs or charts to speak of
    No slogans for the repeating
    No silver bullet was shot
    No hand over heart, no X marks the spot
    No catchphrase for stars a feignin'
    No big letter writing campaign
    No fanfare fills up the room
    No interviews, no big kaboom

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    The fruit is falling 'cause the tree is rotting, my dear
    You were a good mare for the state
    But you're no longer needed here
    Go back to your coup
    So I can chop off my head as an act of contrition for you

    I sleep in my clothes, 'cause nobody knows
    When the shit goes down, we're gonna turn this thing around
    I'll keep tying my shoes, 'cause there's no telling when you...
    everybody now! We're gonna turn this thing around

    I sleep in my clothes, 'cause nobody knows
    If it will touch down, we're gonna turn this thing around
    I'll keep tying my shoes, 'cause there's no telling when you...
    everybody now!!! Everybody now!!!

    The whistling, winding trees, the boiling of the seas
    We know what you are
    The hum of coming trains, the connection we can't maintain
    We know what you are, we know what you are.

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