| Nothing is crueler than children who come from good homes
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| God’ll forgive them I guess but whose side are you on
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| Driving around the old town I remember it all
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| Dropping my lunchbox and Tampax all over the hall
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| (And they said) you are a socialist cokehead we know from your clothes
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| You are a Satanist worshipper of things evil
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| Think you’re a poet a folk singer poseur nah-oh
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| A volleyball player you’ve got to be kidding us all
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| So we hide from the guns on our night reconnaissance
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| Steal flamingos and gnomes from the dark side of the lawn
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| No-one can stop us the plot is a work of genius
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| No-one has bought the rights yet but we’re not giving up
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| Every unwanted lawn jockey fits in the script
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| Directed by Spielberg and starring the masochist club
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| Mary, you look like hell
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| Stuck in that ridiculous shell
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| Give us some light and God’s pure love
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| We know what you’ve been dreaming of
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| Give us some light and God’s pure love
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| We know what you’ve been dreaming of
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| Give us some light and God’s pure love
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| We’re taking you to Hollywood
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| «HOLLLLEEEEEEEEWOOD!!!»
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| And we hide from the guns on our night reconnaissance
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| Steal flamingos and gnomes from the dark side of the lawn
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| One plays a socialist cokehead we dress in my clothes
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| One plays a Satanist worshipper of thing evil
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| One plays a poet who starts up a band of his own
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| One plays a volleyball player with both her wrists broke
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| And we wear what we want on our night reconnaissance
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| Steal flamingos and gnomes the dark suburban lawns
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| And we give them good homes give them love they’ve never known
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| In the loft of the barn in the town where I was born |