| There’s nothing worse than a successful Scotsman
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| As he writes into his book
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| He’ll jot you down and steal your soul
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| And give you a two dimensional look
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| He’ll turn you into an anecdote
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| Critics take note this is how you create something
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| You can’t just write about what someone did
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| There’s a fire in my guitar
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| There’s a fire…
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| Back to you, attack of the clone
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| I’m living in the Twilight Zone
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| Are you following me, are you in my shoes?
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| Monday morning after a shit Saturday
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| The weather is too bright today
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| I’m taking it personally
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| I’m tripping past
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| A mamafia of mums
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| But you weren’t there
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| And now I’m torn
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| Should I go to the skip in Pittenweem
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| With the old stuff from the shed
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| Or should I write a song about fiction
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| Or maybe just go back to bed
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| You can’t pretend you work if you’re sleeping
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| I can’t pretend to know what’s going on
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| You can’t pretend to work if you’re sleeping
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| I can’t pretend to know what’s going on
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| I can’t pretend to work if I’m sleeping
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| Do you know who you are, and what’s going on?
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| I’m not gonna talk to a therapist who doesn’t exist
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| About my lack of existence
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| I’m not gonna talk to a therapist who doesn’t exist
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| About my lack of existence, and solipsism |