When we woke up at home it was so strange
As though we were in someone else's place
Who were these people from before our change
Who lived in squalled clutter and disgrace?
The house is meek and small but they don't care
They seem a little crude and out of touch,
With all that they can do, they're unaware
(Don't think I even like them very much).
But even as these words come into mind
The room I'm in is changing to itself
I guess that in an hour or two I'll find
The person that I don't like is myself.
So should we settle down and not complain
Or get back in the car and drive again?
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