| The captain’s in a coma, the lieutenant’s on a drunk;
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| The owner’s in his cabin with his special friend, the monk;
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| The midget’s on the bridge, dispensing platitudes and junk--
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| Those wild and special places,
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| Those strange and dangerous places,
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| Those sad, sweet faces,
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| It’s a Ship of Fools.
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| The nurse in black seamed stockings, she’s already on patrol
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| For fake fur starlets panicked by the watering-hole;
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| Everybody’s waiting for the drama to unfold
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| In those cold and treasured places,
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| Those old and degenerate places;
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| Those posed, posed, empty faces
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| It’s a Ship of Fools.
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| Run, rabbit, run, you’re the only one
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| That can do it;
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| Turn, baby, turn, there’s a ring of fire
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| And you’ve got to go through it.
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| Fun, baby, fun, when the sands have run
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| To the limit
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| Turn, baby, turn, there’s a ring of fire
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| And you’re in it.
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| Looking for logic and adventure down the dark end of the street,
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| Open city, open season, open lips that gleam so sweet
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| Offer kisses like piranhas to the soft flesh of your feet,
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| And any man’s poison is every man’s meat
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| In those mad and special places,
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| Those sad and desparate places,
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| Those sad, sweet soul embraces,
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| It’s a Ship of Fools
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| Those strange and special places
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| Those wild and dangerous places,
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| Those dead, dead, dead faces…
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| It’s a Ship of Fools;
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| No rules. |