My thoughts are all diseased
I carry them all like cancer
they spread like syphilis
and they're sold like cigarettes
and then judged like heretics
Burn, witch, burn!
You're a God of men
A nothing, a void
I need a way out now
There is no way out
Give my life to save my children
But need to live for them to thrive
Is happiness really a warm gun, or warm rum?
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