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Cigarettes have killed millions.
I wish I would have thought of that.
What the fuck smells like tooth loss in here?
We've got lamb on the door.
Waiting for the angel.
Walking through blood knee high.
I wish I would have thought of that.
What the fuck smells like bad priest in here?
We've got blood on the door.
God-war.
Death-president.
Let's get hopped up on horse tranquilizers and play with claw hammers.
Maybe stop at the tendon and try to keep this screwdriver out of your neck.
Hey kids, the jesus-reaper wears a cowboy hat.
We would apologize...
These plowshares have fashioned the perfect swords.
I kneel with one eye on the clock.
High up in our heaven they'll laugh
and smoke cigars when natural selection renders this rock a vacant lot.
Say we're sorry.
If you hadn't sprayed our throats on the floor, Michael.


Lyrics submitted by poink

Cult song meanings
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