| Who are you?
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| My card, pretty lady
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| Devil May-Care Music Production, B. L. Zebubb, President
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| I like your style, too bad you’re not a singer
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| Oh, but I am, I am a singer!
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| Hmm, no fooling
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| No, no listen…
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| Fantastic, different
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| I want to be a star, oh, please!
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| You’ve talked me into it. |
| Contract!
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| Just our standard contract, nothing fancy
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| Fame, fortune, fans, gold records, concerts, world tours, your name in lights
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| Take your time, read it all
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| Oh, I give up. |
| Can I trust you?
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| Ok, I’ll sign
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| Write!
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| Where’s the ink?
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| We always use blood, it’s more permanent
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| Oh, I don’t know, can’t we wait for Dan?
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| Oh, sure, I’ll be back next year. |
| Come on, Wease
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| Next year?! |
| Oh wait, wait, stop. |
| I’ll sign
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| What about a band… I know a drummer
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| She can’t be bothered kid, she’s got an interview
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| The interview circus is so absurd, and so silly
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| How do you feel about your sudden success?
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| Well, I feel like being a big star is really great, you know
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| It’s like, fabulous. |
| Lonely, too, sometimes
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| Oh, that’s nice
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| This is the biggest thing ever to hit rock!
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| You’re at the top now, sweetie
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| Yeah, but where do I go from here?
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| Don’t worry, I want you, we have a bargain
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| No, I didn’t mean that, wait!
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| I’ve been waiting, now it’s my turn
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| No
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| According to our contract, at precisely midnight, at the moment of her greatest
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| triumph
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| The party of the first part, that’s you, agrees to render up her soul now and
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| forever more
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| To the party of the second part, that’s me
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| Shall we go? |