| The first sin that once told
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| Was to my parents at ten years old
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| I stole somethin', I’ll admit it
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| But not to priests or Crucifixers
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| Me and my best friend Chris
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| Built our alibis from bricks
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| And when we were questioned, we just read our scripts,
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| «I didn’t do it»
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| The first crime I did commit
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| Was mischief night with my friend Chris
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| We packed our bags with toilet paper,
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| Bars of soap, and egg containers
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| And we targeted everyone who ever seemed to do us wrong
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| Oh how the time turns on
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| And maybe Einstein can express
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| The formulaic mysteries of time
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| But I’ve lost the time
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| And maybe Kafka was a writer
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| But I’ve been living like my name was Samsa
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| The first night I got my fix
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| Was with my brother and my friend Chris
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| Stole my mothers Smirnoff vodka
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| Mixed it with some cans of Fresca
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| And we learned how our parents lived
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| We found that we were good at it
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| Meet me at the bottom or in between
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| And maybe Einstein can express
|
| The formulaic mysteries of time
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| By I’ve lost the time
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| And maybe Kafka was a writer
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| But I’ve been living like my name was Samsa
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| See you in hell, I’ll see ya when I see ya |