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I've Got Broken Face! Uh huh, uh huh!

Face my fuck
with a fatherly luck
And carried by a priest-driven ambulance
fueled by holy bottles and steam
They keep driving-driving childish screams
To be delivered by air
But not to my doorstep
Just higher and higher
where the pressure really begins,
it's not as free as they thought
And it's not pillows or clouds or fogs or smogs
that squeeze the suffocation onto the fatherless
Just their own damn lungs.

thank you.

"too much faith in the perceptiveness of their audience"

remember, i'm not one of them.

it kind of sounded like i was telling you were wrong. but you're not.

i meant i'm not a christian. sorry, that was on my conscience.

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