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Napalm Death Peel Sessions Social Sterility Time for my omittance From a sterile existance Where the weekend pays homage To stereotypical perpetuation Must inebriate my senses Into a state of delirium Before I turn to the meat-rack For my penial selection Apathy spreads In unison with social disease A scourge that infests The cattle markets of youth Unconscious, just promiscuous Deprived of self-respect In the selling of their bodies All emotions dead! Thoughts absorbed Lost in sense of direction It's time to sit down And reassess my course of action |
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