It's a minor you say, it's a minor
oh what a depressing tune to celebrate your birthday
still we gather around like poor lost sheep
wet wool and eager to become carpet or some sort of furniture
you couldn't think you couldn't think for yourself
And I'm none the wiser listening to his poems and claiming wisdom
if all the academics could gather together try their best at reality
they would never get it, but it's worth a shot worth a shot
a shot of spirit a shot of hope
we should try we should try our best
cutting down poppies for opium
to get high to get high to get high
And the pig in the sty says why am I here
Cause when it comes to science I'm pretty much you
Without a blackened heart and yet still without chance
so I'll dedicate my life for your laboratories
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