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I plan it all out, what I will say and how and when
And I go to the party to wait for you
But when you don’t show up
I end up surrounded by hip, happy people,
The debate over Darfur echoes around me

Everyone Mills about and talks about what the music scene is about now
Really

And how the village is dying, for good this time, because of the yuppies
Again

And I star into the bonfire and die a little inside
I don’t even fit in with the poets