| His keeping busy, yeah he’s bleeding stones,
|
| With his machinations and his palindromes
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| It was anything but hear the voice
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| Anything but hear the voice
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| It was anything but hear the voice
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| That says that we’re all basically alone
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| Poor Professor Pynchon had only good intentions
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| When he put his Bunsen burners all away
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| And turned into a playground a petri dish of single cells
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| That would swing their fists at anything that looks like easy prey
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| On this nature show that rages every day it was bound,
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| A part his intuition
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| To say we were all basically alone
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| And despite what all his studies had shown
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| What was mistaken for closeness was just a case for mitosis
|
| Why do some show no mercy
|
| While others are painfully shy?
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| And tell me doctor can quantify
|
| ‘Cause he just wants to know the reason, the reason why
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| Why do they congregate in groups of four
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| Scatter like a billion spores
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| And let the wind just carry them away?
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| How can kids be so mean
|
| Our famous doctor tried to gleam
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| As he went home at the end of the day
|
| In this Nature show that rages every day
|
| It was bound apart his intuition, Say
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| We were all basically all alone
|
| Despite what all his studies had shown
|
| What was mistaken for closeness was just a case for mitosis
|
| She fatal doses, malcontent to osmosis
|
| Why do some show no mercy
|
| While others are painfully shy?
|
| Well tell me doctor can you quantify
|
| The reason why |