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I'M SICK OF YOUR ROTTED CUNT PISS SMELL
Cry a river of tears
For your dying family
That never was a family
Just some people in a house
Playing a game
Torture plays the lead
God the father
No real father
Mothers blood bleeds the tears
Brother oh brother
Your shadow has been cast
TV dinner
Diner prayer
Heart the cross
No prayer loss
Words heard
Screamed out loud
Stereo beats filth
It's filth
Cries at it's filth
Sunday morning sun
Don't shine down on here
I'm tired of your bleeding heart
Don't open your mouth
Don't open your heart
Don't even start
Suburban life might be fine
For some like you
Not me
Pile your shit elsewhere
Photograph
The last picture
We're a dying family
That never was a family
©2004-05 andycorrigan.com
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