No more Goodtime Charlie...We squeeze the blood from stone...Do you suppose, by chance, we overstayed the dance?...We overstayed our welcome here?...To hand ourselves to our demons...To bathe in lard and poison...Each wavering desire...is fuel to stoke the furnace...Let's hand ourselves to our demons...Let's bathe in lard and poison...It's fuel to fill the furnace...It's fuel to burn ourselves.
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