

my poket don't drive me fast
G Fmy mother treats me slow
G FMy statues got a concrete heart
but you're the coldest bitch I know
In the factory that you call your mind
Graveyard thoughts of stone
A master thief I wouldn't enter there
You're nothing I would come to own
Your pretending that you've got it made
I know you know no truths
You're still serving cookies and Kool-aid
You're so proper and so cute.
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