| I listened to a lecture of nonsense till dawn,
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| By a plagiary poet with dark glasses on.
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| He said, «How did you ever dream up that song, the one where the baby dies?»
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| I said «I'll tell you the secret, which one’s your good ear?
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| Yeah, people are made up of water and fear.
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| If there weren’t women present we wouldn’t be here,
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| So let’s make like we’re friends.»
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| And the pot turned to powder and soured the mood,
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| And the people I’d come with were gone from the room.
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| So I asked like a child, «May I be excused?»,
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| And disobeyed them all.
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| Into that late-night latrine,
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| Rain soaking through my shoes.
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| I tried walking backwards to get less confused.
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| Working off the theory I could never prove;
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| That it was life itself to blame.
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| In time we’ll win the world,
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| Like a failed revolution.
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| A tumor we could not remove.
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| An old friend.
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| A constant.
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| The blues.
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| Now my days are distractions, sit wringing my hands,
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| Solitaire, crosswords and films on demand.
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| When you turn from a cartoon back into a man,
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| You start to smell that human smell.
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| So I sleep with the fan on to drown out the street,
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| And the noise rising up from the bar underneath.
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| But for that inconvenience all my drinks are free,
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| So I guess it’s just as well.
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| Why do I envy the ending right from the start?
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| Just get it together to take it apart.
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| Watching the horse as it follows the cart,
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| I sweep up my broken spell.
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| And I felt something changing the world,
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| Like a new constitution.
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| A thief I would have to pursue,
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| At all times,
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| At all costs.
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| The truth. |