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She chose the soft center And took it to bed with her mother And the ideal confusion was just an illusion To gain further news of her brother And the comfort of mother Was just an appeal for protection For the cat from next door Was found later at four in surgical dissection And I don't want to be the son of any freak Who for a chocolate center Can take you off the street For soon, they'll plough the desert And God knows where I'll be Collecting submarine numbers On the main street of the sea The Vicar is thicker And I just can't see through to him For his cardinal sings a collection of hymns And a collection of coins is made after And who wrote the Bible, was it Judas or Pilate? Well, one cleans his hands While the other one hangs But still I continue to stand