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Sputter me sideways and grind the pattern down
I’ll mutter my guidance and mind my business
Trying to end this or is this pretentious
Mention the jealous get kicked in the gut
Who wants what, pick your type of gamut
Can’t see it or scan it, scheme it or slam it
But accept the famine and begin to vanish
Looking like lambs or new hands on the job
New bookies to rob like cookies and jars
Your getaway car’s like a fallen down star
I’m calling the game so complain from afar
I’m training my ears to ignore musical bars