| There were 87 Advil in the bottle now there’s 30 left
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| I ate 47 so what happened to the other 10?
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| Why do you suspiciously change the subject and break my concentration
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| As I dump the bottle out and I count the Advil up again?
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| Don’t interrupt me as I struggle to complete this thought
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| Have some respect for someone more forgetful than yourself
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| And I’m not done
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| And I won’t be till my head falls off
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| Hitting every pocket on my shirt, pants and overcoat
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| And I’m hitting them again but I don’t know where I put my notes
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| Clearing my throat, and gripping the lectern I smile and face my audience
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| Clearing his throat and smiling with his hands on the bathroom sink
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| And when I lean my head against the frosted shower stall
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| I see stuff through the glass that I don’t recognize at all
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| And I’m not done
|
| And I won’t be till my head falls off
|
| Though it may not be a long way off
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| I’m not done talking yet
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| I’m not done talking yet
|
| And when I lean my head against the frosted shower stall
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| I see a broken figure silhouetted on the wall
|
| And I’m not done
|
| And I won’t be till my head falls off
|
| Though it may not be a long way off
|
| I won’t be done until my head falls off |