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Pass me that lovely little gun
My dear, my darling one
The cleaners are coming, one by one
You don’t even want to let them startThey’re knocking now upon your door
They measure the room, they know the score
They’re mopping up the butcher’s floor
Of your broken little heartsForgive us now for what we’ve done
It started out as a bit of fun
Here, take these before we run away
The keys to the gulagCome on
Come on
Come on
Come on
Here comes Frank and poor old Jim
They’re gathering round with all my friends
We’re older now, and the light is dim
And you are only just beginningOh, children
We have the answer to all your fears
It’s short, it’s simple, it’s crystal-clear
It’s roundabout and it’s somewhere here
Lost amongst our winningsThe cleaners have done their job on you
They’re hip to it, man, they’re in the groove
They’ve hosed you down, you’re good as new
And they’re lining up to inspect youOh children
Poor old Jim’s white as a ghost
He’s found the answer that we lost
We’re all weeping now, weeping because
There ain’t nothing we can do to protect youWe’re happy, Ma, we’re having fun
And the train ain’t even left the stationAnd have you left a seat for me?
Is that such a stretch of the imagination?I’m hanging in there, don’t you see?
In this process of eliminationWe’re happy, Ma, we’re having fun (children)
It’s beyond my wildest expectation (oh, children)We’re happy, Ma, we’re having fun
The train ain’t even left the station (oh, children)
(Hey, little train, wait for me)
(I once was blind but now I see)

As always, a nod to Drew at Sarcastic Book Geek for the #MusicMonday idea.

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