'Huntington's disease, however, is a rare, fatal inherited disorder for which no known cure exists. The patient suffers progressive loss of mental functioning due to brain-cell death in the region of the basal ganglia, along with the depletion of some neurotransmitters and the buildup of another-dopamine. The symptoms appear at almost any age but most commonly in the thirties and forties, and death follows in 10 to 20 years...'
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Once my life was easy:
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It was just like watchin' TV
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And I was the lucky audience member
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Who's playin' Price Is Right -
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I came on down every night -
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Could come five times a night, too, I remember.
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But let me tell you pal
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That there's another game as well,
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But you won't see the fucker on T.V -
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It's called Fortune's Wheel,
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And no matter how you feel,
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Adrianna will turn the letters "R.I.P".
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One day it's gonna start:
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Everything will fall apart -
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There's programming, too, in your bones.
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One night you go out dancin'
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Thinkin' that you're Hanson,
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Then you wake up and you are the Rolling Stones.
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All of life is lived in stages;
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You're going out to rages
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And you and your friends know all the right grooves;
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But there ain't no use hidin' -
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The cells have begun dividin'
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And it's time you learnt the dopamine moves.
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Don't you get a fucking shock-o
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When you watch one of those doco's
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'Bout those diseases that means you're born with flippers?
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Or you're feeling sort of well 'n'
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Next thing, it's the Peter McCallum
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For the haircut they give you without clippers.
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You wont be fucking laughin', son,
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When you're interviewed by Parkinson,
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Or star in a mini-series called Alzheimer.
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You'll be picking up the tab
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When they order you a nice cold slab -
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And I don't mean the 24 can type either.
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One day you're collecting Tazo's,
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The next you are a spazo:
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I only know one way to ease the pain -
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Pick a way to go
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That the doctors don't know
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And they might give the fucking germ your fucking name.
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(Let me take a quick ad break
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During which I'd like to make
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An apology to go here in a bracket:
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That Tazo/Spazo rhyme -
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It wish that it weren't mine:
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Where'd I get my poetic license? A packet?)
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So kiss the wife for me -
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You can live quite happily,
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Watchin' T.V together as you sup;
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But just like a bad dream, oh,
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You'll play a game called Chemo -
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Spot. Match. Win. Your numbers have come up.
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-----------------
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My Brilliant Huntington's Chorea
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TISM |