The locker suddenly said
I'll become your clown
I put my lover's neckchain
Around my own neck
Aa, the girl laughed,
'Aa, His drama has started again' yeah yeah
He occasionally looks like a well-tuned piano
When he threatens me with his off-pitch trombone
But he's only making fun of me
Because we hear any and all
Third-rate jokes and lies
Grandly put it all next door
Stardust (scha scha scha)
Dance, it's night-time on the checkerboard
'Aa, I still don't want to go home'
we can't say this at all
Aa, speculative Terry
Aa, I spit at that lovable face!!
On top of the sweaty stage
I'm a bit worried that the glistening trombone is
Gradually going off-pitch
but more importantly
I wonder if the fogginess in this flat chest
Is because of the Cola I just drank?
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