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I was working all night in my office |
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When a man I had recently killed |
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Called me up from a phone near my building |
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So I looked out the window at him |
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He had the same obsequious manner |
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That was the reason I had him killed |
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So to calm my nerves, I sang this song |
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To him, over the phone |
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Turn around, turn around |
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There's a thing there that can be found |
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Turn around, turn around |
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It's a human skull on the ground |
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Human skull on the ground, turn around |
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I was out by myself in the graveyard |
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I was doing an interpretive dance |
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When I felt something heavy and pointed |
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Strike me in the back of the neck |
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And then the ghost of my dance instructor |
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Pushed me down into an open grave |
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And as dirt rained down she played a xylophone |
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And sang me this song |
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Turn around, turn around |
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There's a thing there that can be found |
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Turn around, turn around |
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It's a human skull on the ground |
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Human skull on the ground, turn around |
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We were waving our arms out the window |
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Of a fast moving passenger train |
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Acting in an irresponsible fashion |
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Until the engineer whose back had been turned |
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And who we thought would find us highly amusing |
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Quickly swiveled his head around |
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And his face which was a paper white mask of evil |
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Sang us this song |
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Turn around, turn around |
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('Round, 'round) |
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There's a thing there that can be found |
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(There's a thing there that can be found) |
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Turn around, turn around |
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('Round, 'round) |
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It's a human skull on the ground |
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(It's a human skull on the ground) |
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Human skull on the ground, turn around |
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('Round, turn around, turn around) |
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Turn around, turn around |
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('Round, 'round) |
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There's a thing there that can be found |
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(There's a thing there that can be found) |
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Turn around, turn around |
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('Round, 'round) |
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It's a human skull on the ground |
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(It's a human skull on the ground) |
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Human skull on the ground, turn around |
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('Round, turn around, turn around) |