Cruising the hallways and ready to roll, our bodies ain't got organs but baby we got soul. Rocking peasants jackets, better get it right. Keep our fingernails long, always ready to fight. We're both many so we got a gang, Deleuze and Guattari hit the scene with a bang! Birthing monstrous kids and riding war machines, psychoanalysts run, we're schizophrenic and mean. Bastard nomads, you know our turf's everywhere. Deterritorialise this, rumble if you dare! (second verse, same as the first) We only wanted to be pop. Well, Mr Corman? Did we get the job? You better watch out. Our rhizomes got leather jackets. And switchblades.
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