| You lay your plans, I take them as they come
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| I understand: we dance to different drums
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| It’s not in any schoolbook
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| You’re here to teach a lesson to us all…
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| We play by different rule-books
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| What you say, what you do
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| They’re such different things, which is true?
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| Now the telephone rings, Mephistopheles calling…
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| Forty pieces for each lie you’ve told
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| I hope your linings as they all unfold are silver
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| Once we were friends in our idealist days
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| Still, let’s pretend, it’s funny in a way
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| That now our friendship’s token
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| You like to say I owe you everything —
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| Some debts remain unspoken
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| Double talk, double standards
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| You speak with two tongues, truth’s abandoned
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| All life has become one-way traffic to lucre
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| You take your meetings on the cloth of gold
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| Just down the river from the lives you’ve sold for silver
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| The silver crossed your palm
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| Oh, can you see the future?
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| I hope you’ll know when you sold your soul
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| Argente, argent
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| All the things you’ve done will carry their own taint
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| And a day will come when you chorus the complaint
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| That your friends don’t do you fairly;
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| The back you turned, the shoulders that you shrugged
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| Now fit the blame quite squarely
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| What you want, what you need
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| Your emotional greed all-consuming
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| But no hearts will bleed and the coffers are empty
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| Yes, in the end you’d give it all away
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| But on the sockets of your eyes they lay the silver |