| This one time
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| I was running through the fields
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| When I came across a dead guy
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| With a letter in his hand
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| So I scanned it
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| And though the grammar was okay
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| There was such a lack of purpose
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| That it was difficult to care
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| But anyway, hidden in the mess of letters lies the awful truth
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| Yeah, that Emma’s mum and dad use plastic forks
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| Yeah, nothing in this life can take her common shame away
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| Yeah, 'cause Emma’s mum and dad use plastic forks
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| The next day (about ten o’clock)
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| It was playing on my mind (well, I say it was)
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| So I edited it for context (good job)
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| Till there was nothing fit to print
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| But anyway, hidden in the mess of letters lies the awful truth
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| Yeah, that Emma’s mum and dad use plastic forks
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| Woah, but nothing in this life can take her common shame away
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| Yeah, 'cause Emma’s mum and dad use plastic forks
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| Maybe it’s an old cliché, but sometimes things are better left expected
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| You let your manatee down and then you drown: that’s just the way with nature
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| I’ve been here once or twice before with better hair, and let me tell you
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| Only the good die young, except for when they don’t, it’s not exactly fair
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| Yeah yeah yeah yeah, it’ll never be a kingdom’s share
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| Yeah yeah yeah yeah, it’ll never be a kingdom’s share
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| Yeah yeah yeah yeah, it’ll never be a kingdom’s share
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| Yeah yeah yeah yeah, it’ll never be a kingdom’s share |