It stirs, the fan hums and whirs,
casts light on my tired cheeks.
Unreal, in this age of steel,
that I haven't slept in weeks.
And now, though I know not how,
My speakers come to life.
Daylight's a bore, but no more for sure,
'Cause I'm gonna live the ni---------------ight.
I'VE GOT MAIL
I'm the God of their idolatry,
I'VE GOT MAIL
Yeah, that's what that man says to me,
I'VE GOT MAIL
Praise the land of liberty,
I'VE GOT MAIL
And this is how it's meant to be----------------
Tell me why, if all men must die,
Why we always crave to live.
And tell me please, why when I touch the keys,
Do I feel a need to gi-------------------ive.
I'VE GOT MAIL
I'm the God of their idolatry,
I'VE GOT MAIL
Yeah, that's what that man says to me,
I'VE GOT MAIL
Praise the land of liberty,
I'VE GOT MAIL
And this is how it's meant to be----------------
Goodbye, he says with a sigh,
But I can't turn off the light.
Oh well, I say, I pay anyway,
So I'm gonna spend the ni------------------ight.
I'VE GOT MAIL
I'm the God of their idolatry,
I'VE GOT MAIL
Yeah, that's what that man says to me,
I'VE GOT MAIL
Praise the land of liberty,
I'VE GOT MAIL
And this is how it's meant to be----------------
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