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It won't be...
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bad memories nipping at your heels,
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but the scourge of hell gunning for your soul.
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And when the bell rings,
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then you'd best be ready, willing and able to answer
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with something far more deadly than a charcoal pencil.
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Now, if you can handle that, then we can talk business.
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If not, then we go our separate ways
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and I never see your pretty little face again.
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I ain't going nowhere.
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Is that what I think it is?
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A mine collapse.