| It’s midnight
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| And our silver tongued obsessions come at us out of the dark
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| Scrambling to be recognised before tearing themselves apart
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| It’s zen and the art of Bollywood
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| Heroes turning on a spit
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| The lovers unable to resolve a pre-historic bitch
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| We don’t know the half of it
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| Clever is as clever does
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| His drawn lights sparkling on a merry-go-round
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| Hypnotising everyone on it
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| In zen and the art of forgery we’re losing control of light
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| DeLorian, Picasso, Mondre and El Greco some one’s gonna pay the price
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| If I didn’t know you better than that
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| I’d never let you outta my sight
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| Where is the art of sorcery
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| We wanna be fooled again
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| Staggered by deception charmed into submission
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| Helpless as a deck of cards
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| It’s now the art of reality
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| Calling a spade a spade
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| Facing the obvious
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| A monkey and his grinder
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| But on a different plain
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| I see you clearly from day to day
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| As clearly as I see tonite
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| Keep talking said the slow-eyed Mandarin
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| «I've got nothing to say»
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| Meet me on the staircase on your way down
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| We’ll see if there’s been a mistake
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| In zen and the art of algebra
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| There is no value for time
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| Whatever thrives inside the dark
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| Decays on the outside |