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GJust a little touch of Cmake-up; just a Glittle touch of Cbull; just a Glittle 3-chord Ctrick embedded Gin your platform Csoul; you can Gwear a gold CPiaget on your GSemaphore Cwrist; you can Gdance the old Cadage with a Gdapper new Ctwist. BbAnd you can Fring a crown of roses round your Ccranium, Ablive and die Bbupon your cross of Gplatinum.
(R:)
FJoin the crazed institution of the stars. CBe the man that you think (know) you really are. FJoin the crazed institution of the stars. CBe the man that you think (know) you really are.
Crawl inside your major triad, curl up and laugh as your agent scores another front page photograph. Is it them or is it you throwing dice inside the loo awaiting someone else to pull the chain. Well grab the old bog-handle, hold your breath and light a candle. Clear your throat and pray for rain to irrigate the corridors that echo in your brain filled with empty nothingness, empty hunger pains. (R: ) And you can ring a crown of roses round your cranium, live and die upon your cross of platinum. Join the crazed institution of the stars. Be the man that you think (know) you really are.