This is the Central Scrutinizer
Joe has just worked himself into an imaginary frenzy
During the fade-out of his imaginary song
He begins to feel depressed now
He knows the end is near
He has realized at last, that imaginary guitar notes
And imaginary vocals
Exist only in the imagination of the imaginer!
And ultimately, who gives a fuck anyway?
So, so
Excuse me
Mm-mh, so
Who gives a fuck anyway?
So he goes back to his ugly little room
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