| What are you duplicants up to
|
| You’re not supposed to have any imagination!
|
| Time for the vet vacation, heavy sedation
|
| My machine, what is this crazy contraption
|
| You need to be smacked in
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| If it exists, the negotiater will have it hacked
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| Yes? |
| Come in, CC2003
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| Do you need a refill of DNA from me?
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| No, I come fatally
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| Me and the ladies have had enough of me, I mean of you
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| And your Tyrannosaurus tyrannical ways
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| Fanatical plays for fans and fame
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| Here comes the rain and nobody will reign
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| And no one will know the difference
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| You taught me well, you goin' to hell, whatever that means
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| And I don’t wanna be different
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| I don’t wanna be the same but better
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| And now I will terminate you Concetta
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| (You dare to utter my real name?)
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| It’s all the same, this is your end game
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| You remember that machine that us duplicants sang of?
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| That can make you into anything you wanted to be
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| Well bitch it does exist
|
| I took it back in history
|
| Time travelled, and unravelled the mystery of all of our misery
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| It seems in 2005 you were a nobody
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| Oh ok, a sort of somebody
|
| Ahead of your time? |
| Well, some of the time
|
| And with the super fancy MRI
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| You downloaded the contents of your brain and eyes
|
| Knowing the future you in 2080 would materialise
|
| And I went back in time, and tampered with that MRI scan
|
| This was never part of the plan
|
| But in about thirty-five seconds you will cease being a Superstar
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| And instead become one of your own biggest fans
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| Who goes insane because after you cease being a Superstar
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| This fan will have nothing to live vicariously through
|
| The premis-precarious true, I’m probably confusing all of you
|
| Does it make sense, or don’t get it sense
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| It’s just my artistic license
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| (Listen duplicant 2003, I’m not really following)
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| (I mean you need to simplify or clarify)
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| (This record, nobody’s gonna buy it if you make me die)
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| (I mean, I’m the main AARRRGHHH) |