| I was dressed for success
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| But success it never comes
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| And I’m the only one who laughs
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| At your jokes when they are so bad
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| And your jokes are always bad
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| But they’re not as bad as this
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| Come join us in a prayer
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| We’ll be waiting, waiting where
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| Everything’s ending here
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| And all the sterile striking it defends an empty dock you cast away
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| And rain upon your forehead where the mist’s for hire if it’s
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| Just too clear
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| Let’s spend our last quarter stance randomly
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| Go down to the outlet once again
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| Painted portraits of minions and slaves
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| Crotch-mavens and one-night plays
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| And they the only ones who laugh
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| At the jokes when they are so bad
|
| And the jokes they’re always bad
|
| But they’re not as bad as this
|
| Come join us in a prayer
|
| We’ll be waiting, waiting where
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| Everything’s ending here
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| And all the Spanish candles they sold away have gone to this
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| And a run-on piece of mountain travels, shivers, runs, down the freeway
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| I guess she spent her last quarter randomly
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| We guess a guess is the best I’ll do, I’ll do
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| Last time, last time is the best time I spent |