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It took off into space from this terrible place
Won't be 'round for a year
The instructions, they said, had been numbered instead:
'WEATHER: PERFECTLY CLEAR'
'Plot: uninspired'
Bored, I got tired
I won't pretend that I stayed 'till the end
Now they won't return my call
They won't speak to me at all now
They won't return my call
It was Sunday again at a quarter to ten
He'd stepped out for a beer
While walking home in the rain all alone
Weather perfectly clear
