electric chair – fatal disease pt. ii lyrics
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quarantine poorly
who’s gonna die?!
psycho centrist business man
don’t spill his blood or oil
he’d rather see the common man
shed his mortail coil
crematory burning fast
breathing in dead nurses ash
if you’re out on your own
and you’re born to the class
you saw the failures of country
in the year of the mask
paranoid on the floor of my room
your dead father’s stored like gas station food
a new disease. pray you’re lucky
i don’t wanna die in a crowded hospital intubated
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