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♫ Old lusts and the musk of wood dust
Trapped in my old house
The air's too thick to breathe, so desperately
We scooped it in our mouths
Untouched with a poor paint job
And a short attention span
If I could concentrate, it would have turned out great
But I can't ♫
We're trapped in the belly of this horrible machine
And the machine is bleeding to death
The sun has fallen down
And the billboards are all leering
And the flags are all dead at the top of their poles