#2 Pencil inside me
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And the lead is yards deep in my face
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Lick your tongue
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Flat on the glass lathe
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Smell the smell, the big P of this
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Roll your head, chop my blood in yours
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Leech the pain they drove in us
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Count on this: Call off the land, true
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To be used, and then you call me yours.
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#2 Pencil
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| Melvins |
