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Fiona Apple

"Fetch the Bolt Cutters"

(incomplete, lyrics taken from a piece in the New Yorker)

I’ve been thinking about when I was trying to be your friend
I thought it was, then
But it wasn’t, it wasn’t genuine

Fetch the bolt cutters, I’ve been in here too long
Whatever happens, whatever happens

I thought that being blacklisted would be grist for the mill

I need to run up that hill
I will, I will, I will

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