| There’s no infinite reckoning in this eternal line
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| No deeper meaning beckoning in this runic design
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| So folk me Amadeus one more time
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| My children were fair and wore stars in their hair
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| Now they’re bald, watch TV, and buy New Age CDs
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| The unicorn’s a horse on whom some sad bastard
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| Has superglued a horn of plastic
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| In a post-everything world it still pains me, girl, to spell it out for you
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| The Celtic skirl of Alan Stivell might as well be 'Cotton Eye Joe'
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| Put it flat on the floor with a 4/4 beat, add Monsieur Oiseau
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| Tragedy, Celtic tragedy
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| I lost myself in London, Paris, San Fransisco
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| So folk me, Amadeus, to Celtic tragedy disco
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| The druids were bullies on mushrooms and brew
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| Selling mindbending moonshine to suckers like you
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| To undermine it all
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| It’s a bill of snake oil
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| I wish the myths were true, but you should be so lucky, lucky
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| Roots, schmoots, you should know by now
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| It’s the Electronic age, not the Jurassic
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| Gypsy, schmipsy you’re all just as tipsy
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| As Tiny Tim tripping on acid
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| Your Celtic moonshine is J. Arthur Rank
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| The Incredible String Band is banned from my Republic
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| King Arthur is laughing all the way to the bank
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| Muscle men in thongs all oiled up and bronzed swing their prongs
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| To batter a horrible bong from the execrable Gong
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| Tragedy, Celtic tragedy
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| I lost myself in Tokyo and San Fransisco
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| So folk me, Amadeus, to Celtic tragedy disco
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| The world is superflat now, but ironies abound
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| Transcendence isn’t dead, it just went deeper underground
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| Within this 'no infinity' infinity is found
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| The lack of deeper meaning’s getting deeper all the time
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| 'Cotton Eye Joe' may just be joke folk techno
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| But tonight it had me crying
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| So folk me Amadeus one more time
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| Tragedy, Celtic tragedy
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| I lost myself in Marrakesh and San Fransisco
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| So folk me, Amadeus, to Celtic tragedy disco |