| Now, the sands are running out slowly
|
| As he runs along the living crowded street
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| He’s just like a house on fire
|
| Magnetized by the old mansion on the hill
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| It seems somebody’s waiting there for him
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| Looks like a movie house
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| He’ll be the only one to see the show
|
| To tell him what could be
|
| Lights are dimmed by hands unseen
|
| His face appears on the screen
|
| First blurred
|
| Then clearly
|
| Now the film of life will show
|
| What you never realized until you got your call
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| Life is just a lucky chance
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| As long as you take time to take care of your soul
|
| First, there is a scene from his childhood
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| Then his face, covered with measles everywhere
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| Yes, he really can remember
|
| Lightly off, barely escaping polio
|
| That happened when he was a little boy
|
| But he could see it now
|
| Talk of the devil and he will appear
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| To tell you what might be
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| Film fate of him, you or me
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| The back door possibility
|
| First blurred
|
| Then clearly
|
| As the film of life goes on
|
| You can see acts you’ve played but did not realize
|
| Showing it is touch-and-go
|
| With our lives sometimes but we don’t think of it
|
| When that strange performance was over
|
| Someone came, his name was Mister Scheleton
|
| He said:"You've been a bureaucratic man
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| Without a human trait
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| You have to die as your life’s meaningless
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| Your own fault, so listen
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| I’ll do a special with you
|
| 'Cause your train is long overdue
|
| You will be
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| Surrendered
|
| To the close-meshed nets of law
|
| They always find a reason to put out a soul
|
| Maybe health and life depend
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| On the regime you’re in and on your attitude |