| I saw you on the message boards in 1983
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| You were all about the dragon me to dungeon RPGs
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| And then again in '70, in a discount disco store
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| I was polishing the mirrors as you sauntered past the door
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| There was the time in Britain, in 1662
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| Neither of us were royal and the ghosts weren’t see-through
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| I think the time in America, in the wild, Wild West:
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| The lassos were for parlor tricks and your hairstyle was impressive
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| So what’s your name?
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| So what’s your name?
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| Oh, 3032, what a fancy, fancy year
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| Asymmetry and symmetry wanted to have a beer
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| You made your friends come talk to me and quiz me in a poll
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| Like freelancers back in the aughts would nibble on payroll
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| The library in 1951 was such a sight
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| The beams of vaulted ceilings, courtesy of F. Lloyd Wright
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| We both agreed that 'understudy' was better that 'disciple'
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| Our pencils on big blueprints as the moon was being tidal
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| So what’s your name?
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| So what’s your name?
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| At some point in the '90s, before cigarettes were banned
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| The shag carpet of studios would touch our feet like sand
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| You argued that the last thing that we needed was a verse
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| That two was good but three would make attention spans go hearse
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| Those songs would end up buried in a vault outside Palm Springs
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| And never see the light of day, at polite requests of Flea
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| And scanners for policemen, next to old dot matrices
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| Would pile up to heaven as we shot another breeze
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| So what’s your name?
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| So what’s your name? |