| It was quite early one morning
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| Hit me without warning
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| I went to hear the general speak
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| I was standing for the anthem
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| Banners all around him
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| Confetti made it hard to see
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| Put my footsteps on the pavement
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| Starved for entertainment
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| Four seasons of revolving doors
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| So sick of being honest
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| I’ll die like Dylan Thomas
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| A seizure on the barroom floor
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| I’m getting greedy with this private hell
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| I’ll go it alone, but that’s just as well
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| These cats are scared and feral
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| The flag pins on their lapels
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| The truth is anybody’s guess
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| These talking heads are saying
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| «The king is only playing
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| A game of four dimensional chess»
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| There’s flowers in the rubble
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| The weeds are gonna tumble
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| I’m lucid but I still can’t think
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| I’m strapped into a corset
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| Climbed into your corvette
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| I’m thirsty for another drink
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| If it’s advertised, we’ll try it
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| And buy some peace and quiet
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| And shut up at the silent retreat
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| They say you’ve gotta fake it
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| At least until you make it
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| That ghost is just a kid in a sheet
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| I’m getting used to these dizzy spells
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| I’m taking a shower at the Bates Motel
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| I’m getting greedy with this private hell
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| I’ll go it alone, but that’s just as well |