| Funny, how we run around
|
| And see what we got
|
| We don’t even know what it is we found
|
| And honey, take a look around
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| By the time we get there, we won’t
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| Even know where it is we’re bound
|
| Sometimes, when I look at you
|
| It seems you’re the one
|
| Who’s having more fun, it’s smiling through
|
| Funny, how we hit the ground
|
| And see where we got
|
| Ain’t it funny or what, just look around
|
| This is the wicked lounge
|
| Nothing’s up that won’t come down
|
| Mum’s behind the curtains, prying
|
| Say, my dear, at least we’re trying
|
| The sucking mouth of the lamprey say
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| Give me a reason
|
| The horny teeth that killed the prey
|
| Now give me a reason
|
| Attacked by the polished dream
|
| The likes you find in a college
|
| Seems like a flexible friend
|
| Someday your forehead
|
| Will dome in and drop dead
|
| Attacked by the polished dream
|
| The likes you find in a college
|
| Seems like a preferable end |