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Song
An open book, a table, a journal with coffee stains, an article about heart surgery. The TV is on but the channels don’t change, your daughter is hot and the score is arranged. Take a good look at her and a good look at me, sir, I just can’t believe I could be so naive. The radio’s on, now it all sounds the same; your daughter is hot, but your wife is to blame… All dressed up and nowhere to go A loves B but B loves C And there’s your triangle