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Sip on green poisin... the most brutal arsenic... |
| Slipping out of darkness past He's running to the light Feeding on the fading gold No longer in the night He's made it home Has he really made it home? When his room became a coffin he covered it in gold All he said was a lie All he said was a fucking lie And while he sits in walls Panneled silver misery Sipping on putrid Chardonnay And all twisted filigree He thinks of what is happening Living the American dream He's turned into a whore Cold realization in the porcelain gleam |