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The Mourning Sickness
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Men Without Faces (If Only)
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Encroach upon my person
Encumberin' my mind
I'm here to tell your the hinderin' kind

Your evil and disgusting
Degenerate, small-minded fool
I won't beat your wife for you,
Even when you ask me to

Impeding my attachments
Inquire about my time
Want of earthly goods just might keep you in line


Meddle in my business
Molesting my esteem
Your nose loves the place most men never see


Obstruct my religions
Obtrude upon my sole
Pry away my sleep, and pile it on your own

Snoop under my hamper
Tamper with my genes
This time the smell will drop you to your knees


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