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Lyrics
I’m enchanted by the notion
Of your formaldehyde potion
That preserves all of your lovers
In a box under the covers.
An eternal paint by numbers,
Well, It can’t be explained.
Baby, who is left to spare?
Baby, who is left to blame?
I’m intrigued by the thought,
In the darkest night I say “Why not?”
Within this lovin’ history
There’s this intriguing mystery.
Well, in this plastic display rack,
There’s a sticky pin stuck through me.
You have left me here
Stuck out for the world to see.
(Chorus)
In this time of criminals unwilling to serve,
What’s justice these days, for the saint of preserves.
Figuring up the knowledge, was it really worth
Justice, That is, for the saint of preserves.
I’ve been giving into thinking
That you should be drinking
To your superior thoughts,
Now that you’ve got everything you want.
Now old men in society
Make the nation fell good.
You just might get yours,
Yeah, you knock on wood.
I’ve been planted in the garden,
So what’s the use in trying?
There’s nothing left but history
With this intriguing mystery.
Now who is left to question
All the things we get from above?
Trading out eternity
In the hopes of a true love.
(Chorus)
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