locust – alas, here come the hypochondriacs to wait with you in the lobby lyrics
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drained blood from your own spine in a trophy.
dead skin cells drip charity crumbs.
biting the hand that feeds,
deemed an unhealthy meal.
when slipping on someone else’s elbow grease,
gurgling devices loose their appet-te.
mirages seem to commission blame,
while pointing the finger cracks the mirror.
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