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Mirrors on the ceiling,The pink champagne on iceAnd she said ‘We are all just prisoners here, of our own device’And in the master’s chambers,They gathered for the feastThey stab it with their steely knives,But they just can’t kill the beastLast thing I remember, I wasRunning for the doorI had to find the passage backTo the place I was before’Relax,’ said the night man,’We are programmed to receive.You can check out any time you like,But you can never leave …
