| Go ahead and eat your death
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| Lick your lips and see what fruit bears
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| It’s your mouth, it’s your throat, it’s your belly
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| What’s it to me, you seem happy
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| To blindly toss those apple seeds
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| Of vile discourse and the flit and the spit and the bile, all the while
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| It serves you right, it serves you right
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| To take your clothes off by the hearthside, then join me bedside
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| Where the houses are eating their owners
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| Yeah, it serves you right, it serves you right
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| 'Cause god forbid you ever let me inside, or there within
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| Heaven forbid you’d show your underbelly
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| So go ahead, hold your breath
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| Be my guest, and see if I care
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| 'Cause it’s your life, it’s your body in the morning
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| What’s it to you, my sweet bijou
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| 'Cause if you knew what was good for you,
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| You’d stand there lowborn to drop every rampart and drawbridge
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| So save your breath for cooling your tea and your porridge
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| So help yourself, it’s okay
|
| 'Cause if this gets you through the night
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| Well then hey, hey it’s your night, and it’s your right, it ain’t my business
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| Red vein your nose with cheap cologne
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| And let’s slither out of these filthy clothes
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| And dust you off, send you off, get you breathing
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| And I don’t wear my safety belt
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| And I don’t watch my ass when I’m by myself
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| And I sleep like a baby with candles burning
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| And I skip down dark alley lots
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| And I don’t look both ways before I cross the street
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| Or my heart or my fingers and my fingers say
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| It serves you right, it serves you right
|
| 'Cause if it makes you feel a tiny bit warmer reside by the torch light
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| With the outright crass indistinction
|
| And it serves you right, it serves you right
|
| 'Cause god forbid you ever let me inside or there within
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| Heaven forbid you give a good god good evening
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| So go ahead, hold your breath
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| Be my guest, see if I care
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| 'Cause it’s your life, it’s your face in the place of the mirror
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| And here’s to you, merci beaucoup
|
| But wait till I get my hands on you
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| That’s all what you will get — a bear hug from your armless brother
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| So save your teeth for the toothy grins to your mother
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| Yeah, go ahead, please yourself
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| Wring your hands, throttle best-laid plans
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| They’re alive, they’re a bishop, a loose leaf, a bottle
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| I come to hear my neighbors' thoughts
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| So I will saunter down this hallway dark
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| I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive, god willing, I’m alive |