| It’s not like we did something wrong
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| We just burned down the church
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| While the choir within sang religious songs
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| And it’s not like we thought we was right
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| We just played with the wheels of a passenger train
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| That cracked on the tracks one night
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| It’s not like we ain’t on the ball
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| We just talk to our shrinks
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| Huh they talk to their shrinks
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| No wonder we’re up the wall
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| We’re not stupid or dumb
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| We’re the lunatic fringe who rusted the hinge
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| On Uncle Sam’s daughters and sons
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| Good old boys and girls
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| Congregating waiting in another world
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| With roller coaster brains
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| Imagine playing with trains
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| Good old boys and girls
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| Congregating waiting in some other world
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| We’re all crazy we’re all crazy we’re all crazy
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| Lizzy Borden took an axe and gave her mother forty whacks
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| And don’t think we’re trying to be bad
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| All the innocent crime seemed alright at the time
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| Not necessarily mad not necessarily mad
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| We watch every day for the bus
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| And the driver would say
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| «That's where lunatics stay»
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| I wonder if he’s talking about us It’s not like we’re vicious or gone
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| We just dug up the graves where your relatives lay
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| In old forest lawn
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| And it’s not like we don’t know the score
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| We’re the fragile elite they dragged off the street
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| I guess they just couldn’t take us no more
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| Good old boys and girls
|
| Congregating waiting in another world
|
| With roller coaster brains
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| Imagine digging up graves
|
| Good old boys and girls
|
| Congregating waiting in some other world
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| We’re all crazy we’re all crazy we’re all crazy we’re all crazy
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| We’re all crazy we’re all crazy we’re all crazy we’re all crazy
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| We’re all crazy |