gratification to concrete - the phantom tollbooth lyrics
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gasoline on my cold skin
and no love will i save for you
able, red and spartacus
i’m not home for a day
off we cross the finish line
with our black soap handouts
with math and motivations
to calculate our slow demise
able his eyelids
in a tea leaf jetstream
well, the blues phone is blinking
calling the hiss
to the one we call the golden skull
the other beard of lightning
and that never stopped smiling
all the way to the woman house
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