| So in the past week I’ve made several trips to the gynecologist
|
| He was surprised to see me standing there
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| With my golden ticket hanging out of my left pocket
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| As I entered the building I saw large acrylic paintings span the ceiling
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| And the stale smell of silicone clung to the wall
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| I breathed it in, I breathed it out
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| I thought nothing of it then and I think nothing of it now
|
| I think nothing of it now
|
| Salutations are in order
|
| To welcome forth our sweet disorder
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| So why don’t you sit in the corner of your room
|
| Sit in the corner of your room
|
| And download the next greatest track to your MP3 device
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| So sincerely recommended to you by the New Musical Express
|
| You can pick it up
|
| Plug it in
|
| And have it ready for free-roaming material before you know it
|
| Then you can stroll on round to your friend’s house and play it loud and proud
|
| As you sit around in a circle and skip one minute and thirty seconds into the
|
| chorus
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| So we can all sing along and gaze and marvel at the four chord future
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| Cause that’s what we want
|
| That’s what we need
|
| Something we can touch
|
| Something we can feel
|
| Something that’s relatable not debatable
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| Relatable not debatable
|
| Relatable not debatable
|
| Relatable not debatable
|
| Salutations are in order
|
| To welcome forth our sweet disorder
|
| I don’t want to be heard if you’re the only one listening
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| Bathe me in blood and call it a christening
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| I don’t want to be heard if you’re the only one listening
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| Bathe me in blood and call it a christening
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| Bathe me, bathe me in blood
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| Bathe me, bathe me, bathe me in blood
|
| And that’s how it ends |