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Crack! Goes your brittle spine. A little bite. A little here, a little there— the way you snap breaks my teeth in half. You’ll crumble to pieces before my eyes and I still won’t see a thing. You’ll comb me out with your ancient teeth all to breathe in the scent of me. Look at me, the disease rotting out your brain. Beat me, again and again through that spastic muscle; hold me close, dear death! Refrain; refrain. |