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July 28, 2002|Lord Buckley

Hipsters, flipsters, and finger-poppin' daddies,

Knock me your lobes,

I came to lay Caesar out,

Not to hip you to him.

The bad jazz that a cat blows,

Wails long after he's cut out.

The groovy is often stashed with their frames,

So don't put Caesar down.

The swinging Brutus hath laid a story on you

That Caesar was hungry for power.

If it were so, it was a sad drag,

And sadly hath the Caesar cat answered it.

Here with a pass from Brutus and the other brass,

For Brutus is a worthy stud,

Yea, so are they all worthy studs,

Though their stallions never sleep.

I came to wail at Caesar's wake.

He was my buddy, and he leveled with me.

Yet Brutus digs that he has eyes for power,

And Brutus is a solid cat.

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