It's a monster symbol of fate
It's a tragic Piscene war
And an accidentally shattered plate
With a young man in checkered boots
As we sat in conformtable chairs
Eating berries and roots
Putting on humanist airs
In your paradise on earth
And a xylophone in the hall
On a burgundy table for two
And you hear the mockingbird's call
But is he mocking you
Or just a friend that you once knew
In the back of your mind it still lurks
So don't fit it
Don't fix it
Don't fix it if it works
I could call you a reia**ance man
'Cause your interests are so diverse
Follow with a gentle hand
But if you're getting worse
Well I'll just have to call a nurse
And the progress that we've made will be reversed
So don't fit it
Don't fix it
Don't fix it if it works
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