| Strange Names and New Sensations
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| Simply Spalding Gray
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| You’ve gone it seems to great extremes
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| To tell the tales you tell,
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| You’ve lived 'em all, both great and small
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| And so you tell them well;
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| Swimming to Cambodia, Monster in a Box,
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| This dude just flippin' sits there
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| And they film him while he talks;
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| There aint no sex or violence
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| (Might not float your boat),
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| A water glass, a table
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| and a page or two of notes.
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| Bye-bye, just a wave if you will,
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| Bye-bye, we’ll be standing here still.
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| Your mother died a suicide,
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| So odds were up, they say,
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| That you would see things comp’rably
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| And end it all some day;
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| A monologing diarist
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| Makes his life his art,
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| Offstage walks a tightwire
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| And might fall apart;
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| Motor crash in Ireland
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| (Bad blow to the head)
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| Modified his madness
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| And darkened things he said.
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| Bye-bye, just a wave if you will,
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| Bye-bye, we’ll be standing here still.
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| We’ll be standing here while the future breaks against us
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| Like the waves against a buoy in the bay;
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| We’ll be standing here or is time a magic carpet
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| That we’re riding on to move from day to day?
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| Riding on to move from day to day?
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| You’ve gone it seems to great extremes
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| to tell the tales you tell,
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| But ev’rything’s extreme, it seems,
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| To you, so what the hell?
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| Swimming to Cambodia, Monster in a Box,
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| This dude just flippin' sits there
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| And they film him while he talks;
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| People pay to watch it
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| As if it were a play;
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| It aint exactly acting,
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| It’s simply Spalding Gray.
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| Bye-bye, just a wave if you will,
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| Bye-bye, we’ll be standing here still;
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| Bye-bye, just a wave if you will,
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| Bye-bye, we’ll be standing here still. |