The Unicorns emasculate the masculine

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This could be the sound of me tearing
Into your flesh from a distance
Opening fresh wounds
For a peek
And this could be the sound of me breaking
Into your room late at night
Slitting your throat
And cutting off your dick
'Cause everyone I know
Is too comfortable with thier lives
To ever be a part of change
And everyone I know
Is leaving for the weekend
With tickets to the game
Everybody sounds the same
All dirty
All dirty
La la la la la la la

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