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You throw me in the madhouse,
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you strip away everything I have, everything I know,
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you treat me like a rabid dog,
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like a madwoman.
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And you know what happens?
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I'm blessed with the gift of total clarity.
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I am more sane now as a madwoman than I ever was
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as the head of Briarcliff.
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You sound mad as a hatter.
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Oh, Carl.
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Jude needs some time alone to reflect
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and pray for guidance.