| Who said «To thine own self be true»?
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| Oh right, the guy who got ran through
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| And who decreed that all unclean get thrown in a ditch outside town?
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| Oh right, that was God
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| Let me tell you how to make it in the world today
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| And by «I», I mean «Simplis Pueris Mentalis Doktor»
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| Mentalis simplis pueris eye
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| For the sky that is over you is brass
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| And the ground that you tread upon is iron
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| From what I say you can deduct the truth
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| And the rest can be thrown in the squelch chamber
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| Too many jewels
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| Not enough of fingers
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| Left all the poets and malingerers inside, inside, inside
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| To gain financial
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| One must be a hollowed out instrument
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| An original instrument of God
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| I say yes to no and maybe
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| Waste can be wine, waste can be wine
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| And what is lost is of no consequence
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| A real rich dad, poor dad kinda deal
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| Famously nervous spectral duping
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| Is the enemy of profit and its disciples
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| I’ll tell you all about aposiopesis, if, if
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| Too many jewels
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| And not enough of fingers
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| They are the fallow and they are disassemblers inside, inside, bug-eyed, inside,
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| inside
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| I do all my shady business at Zeidman’s and that’s how I get ahead
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| Every road crooked must be made straight
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| Every mountain must be made flat
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| And I know if I die in a field and inside
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| And I know inside, inside, bug-eyed, bug-eyed
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| Too many jewels
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| Not enough fingers
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| Well, I hope you all maintain sales, sales
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| Inside, inside, inside, inside, bug-eyed
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| You all eat ash
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| You all eat ash
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| To know me
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| Is to love me
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| To know me
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| Is to love me |