Here come the man from the stars we don't know why he go so far and keep on marching along beating his drum Thugs and stick and bats and balls for nuclear dicks with dialect drawls they come from a parking lot town where nothing lives in the sun Don't make me a target (2x) When you reach back in his mind feels like he's breaking the law There's something back there he got that nobody knows He never claimed to say what he says He smells like the inside of closets and stairs- The kind where nobody goes Don't make me a target...
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