| This is hell playing madman on the stage
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| But a different kind of idiot wrote this play
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| And it isn’t even relevant today
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| And my being splits, one half walks out and sits
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| In the audience and grins
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| All the time getting drunk as he orates
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| And he’s swallowed in a sea of sated eyes
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| He has a most peculiar way to say goodbye
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| And he hates, he lies, he’s dreaming alibis
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| As homeward he glides
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| And there’s love in those loins that dance on the floor
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| And happiness drips from the tap on the bar
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| Reminds me of a place in God knows where
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| Where too many changes occurred by far
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| And maybe for him and me both it’s fake
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| These surrogate brothers won’t drink too late
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| And it reminds me of how the immigrant runs
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| My Romans, my countrymen didn’t show up
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| He’s a sailor, he’s been betrayed
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| From over the sea that never was…
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| He’s more than just an immigrant that’s been betrayed
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| From over the sea that never was…
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| He’s more than just an immigrant
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| He’s a sailor in an airplane… |