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It's so much the boredom
That put the fire in her soul
It made her life unbearable
While living in that hole
Of her dark suburban nightmare
Till she went to see the dead
And the self-esteem she valued
Was immediately spent
She had no one to turn to
So she just turned off her mind
She's a well-adjusted wanderer
But all this stuff takes time
On the streets of old Wyoming
There's a couple from LA
They're post-environmentalists
Who are looking for the state
Till their friends all come to join them
In their quest for air to breathe
When it gets too crowded
They will just pick up and leave
Like they did in New York City
When the coast seemed quite sublime
It don't take much but money
And money just takes time
Oh, Maria's on the lounge chair
Draped around the pool
Avoiding almost anyone
Who'd desecrate her cool
It's the reason she's attractive
She's already self-abused
And her pride won't feel the loneliness
That comes with being used
She's the center of the universe
For which she was designed
Until she wakes up wondering
Why all this stuff takes time
Bill died of a heart attack
Beating up his wife
Now he's come back as a lesbian
And is looking for his wife
Who is now a psychoanalyst
That likes to work with plants
Except of course on weekends
When she likes to wear the pants
She's a leather goddess minister
Who works with the confined
It don't take much to realize
That all this stuff takes time