Testo originale
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This mother's den is running opened
Where I get judgement from a laughing shill
This author's pen is breaking upwards
No way to play it like I don't want you
The situation calls for earnest
But I imagine it'd be complex
In little time when I fault patience
From the corners where you don't expect
Throw it away in the night I forfeit fate
Then let him promise that he may as well have it
You'll get the nation to come back out
The kind of shame I'm taught to bear
