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I've found some scary features
In my used gear
I thought my brain was useful
Now it throws me into fear

Dance and whirl
You are my crazy lady
Spit and drill
You drive me lazy baby

They are calling me crazy
I just shift up the gears
Pushing the most out of my fear
Running the edge. Yeah! Permanent thrill.

Is this trap or fallacy
An advancement or retreat?
Hell yeah! Whatever that might be
Keeps my clock on ticking

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