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My skin used to be a disaster When to a musical chair I clung Waiting for the needle to drop Ah, Dr. Zizmor I was rich by virtue of being born Laughing at abuses of power 'Till I felt, at age thirteen, a power beyond my control Dr. Zizmor Oh no And when I sat down in your chair The ghost of a song held me down As instruments you did prepare The room was spinning The last thing I remember that day Your needle, doctor, descending Descending, like it was spelunking But never touching Zizmor From Letras Mania