Shut the door, wonder why he doesn't get it. He is a brat with a far too simple mind.
Shut the door, get back home. Exhale.
Gaze at the figure who gave you birth, the depression in her waist,
the fury in her eyes. Fear is all around.
I needed to pour something sour. 'Cuz I don't get it.
The source in the light.
I needed to test your reactions.
Cut the crap, open that door. Tell me what I am here for.
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