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The Mourning Sickness
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I'll spend my life cleaning up this place
For all I know, I'm made of nuclear waste
I sweep the floor, sweeping up disgust
The sores on my hands fill me with lust
Lust to fill the water supply
With LSD, PCP, and cyanide

Die Die
Die Die
Die Die

Achmed sells used cars
The Seven Seven Seven is his favorite bar
One day he went out with a beautiful friend
Was beaten with a slugger, split open his head
On the street the pain is real
But he's just a maggot, he cannot feel

James used to hang at the 7-Eleven
With a Slurpie and change he was video heaven
The color of his skin made him guilty of crime
Took a dive for the hillbillies drinking their wine
Angel Dust® didn't ease the pain
Made it easy for the cops, said he was insane

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