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(brooker / reid) |
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My prussian-blue electric clock's |
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Alarm bell rings, it will not stop |
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And i can see no end in sight |
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And search in vain by candlelight |
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For some long road that goes nowhere |
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For some signpost that is not there |
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And even my befuddled brain |
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Is shining brightly, quite insane |
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The chandelier is in full swing |
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As gifts for me the three kings bring |
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Of myrrh and frankincense, i'm told, |
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And fat old buddhas carved in gold |
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And though it seems they smile with glee |
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I know in truth they envy me |
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And watch as my befuddled brain |
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Shines on brightly quite insane |
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Above all else confusion reigns |
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And though i ask no-one explains |
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My eunuch friend has been and gone |
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He said that i must soldier on |
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And though the ferris wheel spins round |
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My tongue it seems has run aground |
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And croaks as my befuddled brain |
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Shines on brightly, quite insane |