| I’m in the one-room apartment
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| Located in the basement under the Polish National Church
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| It used to be a club…
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| And then a mental health outpatient clinic…
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| Now, I call it home
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| There’s a king-sized mattress in the middle of the room
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| Where me and the big fat lead singer from Canned Heat
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| Finish up an afternoon of incredibly hot sex
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| Boy does he have a big one
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| Joining us for late afternoon tea in a four-way
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| Is my old next-door neighbor Jimbo and his wife
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| Who is a chicken
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| Since I’m the only woman there with hands
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| I soon find myself fully occupied
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| I can’t help but wonder how Jimbo and his wife had their baby
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| Who had been sleeping next to us, but had since fallen onto the floor
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| She must be able to change forms, back and forth
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| And what about chicken pussy?
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| Is it enticing?
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| I mean what’s the story?
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| Me and the guy from Canned Heat climb into a nondescript 4-door sedan
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| We drive up the hill and around the sleepy suburban neighborhood
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| We can’t help but notice all the beautiful pine trees that abound
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| I see all the housewives, through their kitchen windows |
| Making dinner…
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| For their husbands…
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| Who should be returning home from work just around this time
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| I start to feel cheap
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| Is this the fulfillment of a fantasy hoped for |