| Pretty Patricia was a nervous wreck
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| Deadened by the Darvocet
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| Furnished by a charlatan
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| Posing as a pharmacist
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| Propped behind a pearly desk
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| She hoists the phone with burdened breath
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| And hands she holds for reasons wanton
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| Is the whirling dervish games
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| This is just the receptionist
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| The skeletons and hallowed halls
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| Outnumber every worker bee buzzing right through this honey comb
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| And I am just a lonely drone
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| With a notepad and a picture phone
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| Whose nectar is a collection of transgressions and subversive flaws
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| Darrell’s darling carries all of HR on his back
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| Can only hide Gisette because the fetish waftings of croquettes
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| Well Mrs. Darla’s down the hall
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| She keeps a watchful eye
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| It’s on accounts receivable
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| Leaving it blind to the concubine
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| Lady Darla’s not the cleanest
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| Grape inside the crops
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| She keeps her eyes inside accountants
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| As she skims right off the top
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| Her saccharine little skins of cream
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| She sneaks out in her hosiery
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| To hopefully she pumps the petty plunder in the slots
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| Every now and then
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| The best laid plans of mice and men
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| Fall apart at hands
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| Of unassuming champions
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| Collecting all the dirt
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| To build a tower to the sky
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| Slaving in this basement
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| One day this will all be mine
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| One day this will all be mine
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| One day this will all be mine
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| She was so outwardly nonpareil
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| I was enraptured by the act
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| Of cracking her seamless shell
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| Catching Esteban with hand in his till is muy facil
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| But this girl’s skills are past the run of the mill
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| We command with abandon the plot
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| Take what he got
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| Setting up shop with a cloud 8 view at the top
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| And everybody’s got bones
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| Hers are harder to spot
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| With her appointments pinned down and her hair done up
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| I devote everything that I’ve got
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| To stalking this fox
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| There’s got to be a fracture in her porcelain plot
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| That’s where I slipped up
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| Lost in her wash
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| She doubled back upon her tracks and she caught me off guard
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| She’s impossibly smart
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| I am defeated at my own game
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| Caught me collecting dirt
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| To blackmail them for my own gain
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| A tower made of dirt
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| Is just a castle built from glass
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| And a pocket full of stones until the last one’s cast
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| Every now and then
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| The best laid plans of mice and men
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| Fall apart at hands
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| Of unassuming champions
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| Collecting so much dirt
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| That I was buried down alive
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| Slaving in this basement
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| Until the day I die
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| Until the day I die
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| Until the day I die |