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House of Spirits
by Faxed Head

House Of Spirits
Austrian nights, so cold and dank
Snow covered graves and frozen lakes
The voices of children and women croon
Bits of burned bone shaped like crescent moons

We bought glue to put our pieces together
It had no fumes -- it was a thick white paste
Instead we went to a local tavern
Where the Austrian spirits had a strange taste

Butterscotch drops and turpentine
We ate the paste but did not get high
Drunk on Stroh we stumbled sickly
One by one we vomit seperately

Our private prison to our house of spirits
No AA for me -- just glue and doom
This sort of life, no medals merit
Just to drink Stroh "80" in Austria soon

Contributed by Benjamin I. Suggest a correction in the comments below.
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