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.when hate came in a letter bomb.

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oh where's the wilted lettuce
or the worm infested apple core
what's left to toss at the shitty stage performer
when words won't break their bones

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.(chorus x2).

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the good ole days are gone
when hate came in a letter bomb
bring back the torches
bring back the pitchforks
we'll set the city alight
and watch it burn, burn, burn, burn, burn

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we're purging the streets
in a dishwater cleansing
listen to the screeching whores
as they watch their brothel burn
barricaded inside with enough time
for one last fuck

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pile the bodies in the center square
and we'll have a barbecue
you bring the survivors
and I'll bring the rat poison
lace the cranberry sauce
better yet, the yorkshire pudding

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i want to see them squirm
as we strap a belt to their heads
shove a spoonful in their mouths
and latch the leather tight

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a barbecue's not a barbecue
without the occasional genocide

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.(chorus x2).

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. © lyrics by rhys rage rourke.
.lead fife player for the ¡freaks.

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copyright infringement
may lead to a fate
similar to that of nesbitt

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.beware.