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There's pollen flying down The Holland Tunnel |
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And the hotel's full of mud and unmade clay |
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There are rumours coasting in on fumes and vapors |
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And there's no more gas for anyone today |
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There's an earthquake where the milkshakes are perfection |
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And a TV that we leave on all the day |
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There's apostrophes for anyone who needs them |
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And quotation marks round everything you say |
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And it's all your fault |
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I'm sorry that I wrote this song |
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It's all your fault, it's all my fault |
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It won't be long |
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There's some rifle sights high on The Eiffel Tower |
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Trying to pick off anyone who's french |
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\"You're spoilt for choice\" a voice calls down from heaven |
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\"So shoot someone or get back on the bench\" |
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There's a supermarket where the ark is grounded |
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In frozen foods, we feel the wind and snow |
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There's a two for one deal at the checkout |
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All that's yet to come is priced to go |
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And it's all your fault |
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I'm sorry that I wrote this song |
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It's all your fault, it's all my fault |
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It won't be long |
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And your details are for sale like sacred relics |
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And your real name has already been used |
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Face to face sounds mostly like an echo |
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And when we touch feels mostly like a bruise |
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And it's all your fault |
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I'm sorry that I wrote this song |
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It's all your fault, it's all my fault |
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It won't be long |