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In my dreams I have seen |
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tales beyond the extreme, |
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in the land of the obscene |
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some find shelter. |
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God gave back his sanity clause |
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- get your friend a dress with claws |
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and holes to show the flaws |
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- Oh, he's writing another lovesong. |
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Pardon me, I don't wanna see, |
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siamese centerfold's buzzing me. |
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Oh no, I don't wanna know |
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no siamese freakshow, no. |
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Mummy nun, policeman stunts |
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clockwork writing hard-on songs |
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and curly tales with nothing on, |
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- Maybe I'm getting old. |
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Don't wanna know where it's done, |
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Don't wanna know what songs they've sung, |
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just wanna wake up and be happy |
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that I'm still young. |
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Pardon me, I don't wanna see, |
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siamese centerfold's buzzing me. |
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Oh no, I don't wanna know |
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What's going on below |
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downstairs at the siamese floorshow. |
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Pardon me, I don't wanna see, |
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siamese centerfold's buzzing me. |
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Oh no, I don't wanna know |
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no siamese freakshow, no. |
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I've never felt such great distress |
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but the lowest crime can become success. |
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Who else would call them lover, say? |
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Who else would put their back so straight? |
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But oh, the girl she said she came for the dancin'... |