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Even better, candid.
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Let me guess,
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his mom was a groupie and he's my grandson.
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Good one. No, he's my neighbor's kid.
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Look, I really don't want to be here,
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and I'm obviously interrupting a super weird party,
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so I'll get right to the point.
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I need my Runaway Sleigh lyrics.
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Somebody at this address bought them.
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I'm assuming it was mom
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before you torpedoed the marriage and she moved to Florida.
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But if you do have them, I need them.