| I come aboard
|
| I sing a lament
|
| The world isn’t round
|
| It’s Twisted and Bent
|
| But to face doom in a sock-stenched room all by myself
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| Is the kind of fate I never contemplate
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| That reminds me of the time I felt
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| It’s time for sin and catholic guilt
|
| Two years later to the day
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| I had reason to confess
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| With her hair a shining shade
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| Of bus-conductress blonde
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| Tales of music and movement
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| Were told in grip and groan
|
| But to put these thoughts
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| In songs like theirs
|
| Of the honest truth
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| There’d be no trace
|
| Just lying out loud
|
| Good God give me strength to face another lazy day of If I was a millionaire I’d be a million miles from here
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| You came into my life like a brick through a window
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| And I cracked a smile
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| I know her face so well
|
| Although the color of her eyes
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| Escapes me for the moment
|
| Though her embrace
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| Is like being short-changed
|
| But if I knew what made carpets fly
|
| I wouldn’t be sitting here
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| Twiddling my thumbs
|
| I’d threadbare my soul
|
| And wheedle my way
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| Into other people’s lives
|
| And out of my own
|
| So typical — a battle of wits
|
| And I’ve come half prepared
|
| Now we raised a toast to celebrate
|
| As December’s embers fade
|
| But every fire is just a hoax
|
| For January’s little joke
|
| Halfway to paralyzed my understudy’s eyes grew tired
|
| Every actor hides a heckle,
|
| doctor hydes a jekyll
|
| See through my disguise
|
| But I forget the conversation we had
|
| I don’t remember what you said or did
|
| That made you so attractive
|
| I’m immortal
|
| And that’s no life at all |