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In the early morning hours of hazy brain, between dozing and being woken up by the heat generated by an orange fuzzball, I heard "El Condor Pasa" playing in my head, but the words were:
I'd rather have a pitchfork in my brain,
Yes I would
If I could
I think I need psychoanalysis.
I'd rather have a pitchfork in my brain,
Yes I would
If I could
I think I need psychoanalysis.