Flee the icy Lucifer. Oh he's an awful fellow!
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What a mistake! I didn't take a feather from his pillow.
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Here's the everlasting rub: neither am I good or bad.
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I'd give up my halo for a horn and the horn for the hat I once had.
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I'm only breathing. There's life on my ceiling.
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The flies there are sleeping quietly.
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Twist my right arm in the dark.
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I would give two or three for
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one of those days that never made
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impressions on the old score.
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I would gladly be a dog barking up the wrong tree.
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Everyone's saved we're in the grave.
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See you there for afternoon tea.
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Time for awaking the tea lady's making
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a brew-up and baking new bread.
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Pick me up at half past none
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there's not a moment to lose.
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There is the train on which I came.
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On the platform are my old shoes.
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Station master rings his bell.
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Whistles blow and flags wave.
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A little of what you fancy does you good (Or so it should).
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I thank everybody
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for making me welcome.
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I'd stay but my wings have just dropped off.
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A Passion Play (edit #9)
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Jethro Tull |