No, it's not the heathen in me
It's just that I've been bleeding lately internally
So turn to me but bite your tongue, your torrid weapon
I could learn a useful lesson
What's so great about the great depression?
Was it a blast to you? Because it's blasphemy
Wish I was here, well, I wish you weren't
Your gift of anger's better burnt
If nothing's said then nothing's learnt
I thought I wasn't but I'm really hurting
Our deaf and dumb dinners
There's gravy in the mud

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