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Jenny you don't know the nights I hide
below a second story room
to whistle you down
the man who's let to divvy up
time is a miser
he's got a silver coin
only lets it shine for hours
while you sleep it away
there's one rare and odd style of living
part only known to the everybody Jenny
a comical where's the end parade
of the sort people here would think unusual
Jenny
tonight upon the mock brine of a Luna Sea
far off we sail on to Back O' The Moon