| The word is out, the faithful pack
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| Merging forces, renewed, attack
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| The plan is laid, stage left to right
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| Take same positions, every night
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| Grind and train your sonic lens
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| Upon complacent don’t do dens
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| Length of focus, the depth of field
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| The walls to which our ramps are wheeled
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| The lights go down, a roar goes up
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| A clochard thrusts a plastic cup
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| It’s all for one and one for all
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| The black watch pipes and drummers call
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| Compass, phones and GPS
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| Have all produced the same address
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| Tomorrow is another day
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| We place our goodness on display
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| Our tails are up, our heads are down
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| Our eyes are fixed upon the crown
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| We wore it once. |
| It didn’t fit
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| We couldn’t make good use of it
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| So off we went to find a way
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| To live and fight another day
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| Tails are up, heads are down
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| Eyes are fixed upon the crown |