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First thing in the morning: Razor blade

First thing in the morning: Good skin

We live by degrees, you’ve got a place

Picked out on your wall, next to the mercury

On the buyer's market, you’re a target for treachery

I know you like it rough

When your life falls through will you re-insititute?

Or will you make up your face with power tools?

Amphibian, you’re from Mars. I doubt live birth

You’ve been fucked too hard

We live a transaction, resent our market value

I predict a five-point decline in survival