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Songs | Albums | Album Arts
Lyrics:
His schizoid personality Fragmented at the age of eight His grandmother brought him to me For treatment, but it was too late
For he has tasted blood And his mind- his mind is mud And it's black, oozing mud
His cannibalistic urges Originated who knows where I can't make my diagnosis He nauseates me, I don't care
For he has made me sick And his mind- his mind is shit And in the black, a wicked wit
And if it wasn't illegal I'd cut his throat with a penknife I'd hang his bones in my office If it wasn't immoral
For I have tasted blood And my mind...
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