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		   But I knew I was out of luck 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   "bye-bye, miss american pie." 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   Drove my chevy to the levee, 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   The last page was a Mairkurion sandwich.  Been a while I think since I made one of those. 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   And singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die. 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   "this’ll be the day that I die." 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   Now for ten years we’ve been on our own 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   And moss grows fat on a rollin’ stone, 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   But that’s not how it used to be. 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   When the jester sang for the king and queen, 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   In a coat he borrowed from james dean 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   How do I not have a Tolkien alias yet?  This must be given due consideration. 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   And a voice that came from you and me, 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   Oh, and while the king was looking down, 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   The jester stole his thorny crown. 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   The courtroom was adjourned; 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   And while lennon read a book of marx, 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   The quartet practiced in the park, 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   And we sang dirges in the dark 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   "bye-bye, miss american pie." 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   Drove my chevy to the levee, 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   And singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die. 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   "this’ll be the day that I die." 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   Helter skelter in a summer swelter. 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   The birds flew off with a fallout shelter, 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   Eight miles high and falling fast. 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   It landed foul on the grass. 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   The players tried for a forward pass, 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   With the jester on the sidelines in a cast. 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   Now the half-time air was sweet perfume 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   While the sergeants played a marching tune. 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   Oh, but we never got the chance! 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   `cause the players tried to take the field; 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   The marching band refused to yield. 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   Do you recall what was revealed 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   "bye-bye, miss american pie." 
  
    
      
        
  
  
        
        
 
          
          
            
              
              
                
                   
	
		   Drove my chevy to the levee, [BOOM-CHAKA-BOOM DANCE] |