| The house caught on fire in the winter
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| The bosses lay slain
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| And each of the workers decided to ten-fold their pay
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| And they saw in the mirror
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| The sun had been shot down in flames
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| And nobody minded the hole in the sky or the rain
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| But it doesn’t really matter when the judgements are said
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| 'Cause we all take our chances to find out
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| Romance is in some others bed
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| And you might burn your fingers
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| Hook your best rings for those
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| Who’d have you standing naked
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| Then publicly auction the use of a hose
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| All the children were laughing
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| There faces in half at the pain
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| At the girl who liked talking to walls and jumpin' at trains
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| And the words that ring true
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| In the playground of fools will remain
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| And nobody minded the hole in the sky or the rain
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| But it doesn’t really matter
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| When the rights have been read
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| 'Cause we all take our chances to glance at the wife in the opposite bed
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| And I bet Nero and Pilate could easily explain
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| How policemen and pirates get stoned in glass houses
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| Just finding their way |