| Some said the local lake had been enchanted
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| Others said it must have been the weather
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| The neighbors were trying to keep it quiet
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| But I swear that I could hear the laughter
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| So they jokingly nicknamed it the porridge
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| 'Cause overnight that lake had turned as thick as butter
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| But the local kids would still go swimming, drinking
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| Saying that to them it doesn’t matter
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| If you just hold in your breath 'til you’ve come back up in full
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| Hold in your breath 'til you’ve thought it through, you fool
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| The genius next door was busing tables
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| Wiping clean the ketchup bottle labels
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| Getting high and mumbling German fables
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| Didn’t care as long as he was able
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| To strip his clothes off by the dumpsters
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| At night while everyone was sleeping
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| And wade midway into that porridge
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| Just him and his secret he was keeping
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| If you just hold in your breath 'til you’ve come back up in full
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| Hold in your breath 'til you’ve thought it through, you foolish child
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| In the morning the film crews start arriving
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| With donuts, coffee, and reporters
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| The kids were waking up hungover
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| The neighbors were starting up their cars
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| The garbageman were emptying the dumpsters
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| Atheists were praying full of sarcasm
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| And the genius next door was sleeping
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| Dreaming that the antidote is orgasm
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| If you just hold in your breath 'til you’ve come back up in full
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| Hold in your breath 'til you’ve thought it through, you foolish child |