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Perhaps I should interject at this point that I have never craved costume parties. This is especially true if I haven't driven myself and can't leave at will when I don't know ninety five percent of the people there, (like that night). Maybe it's due to an over active imagination, but it has always freaked me out when there is no point at which people wearing disguises stop trying to 'stay in character'. Obviously there is some correlation between this behavior and how much time and money each person has put into their 'facade'. This is understandable. But as the night wears on, the effect it has is to divide the costume party up into two groups. One will include the realists who are dressed to the teeth, down to the last detail of elaborate makeup and wardrobe. To the others like me, the costume is a mere afterthought, like a password one needs to gain entry with and the less said the better. Anyway, I immediately began to suspect that my group would be in the minority (and I was right) when Katznelson opened the door decked out as Satan, complete with horns breaking through two patches of festering flesh on his forehead and a tail of startling realism that protruded from behind. As the night wore on, I thought I saw this tail twitch involuntarily a few times as if it had a life of it's own. I don't mind telling you that, considering my history in the music business, this freaked me out a lot.
Anyway, one thing led to another and ended up pretty much as it unfolds in the song. That is at least what I remember of it.
-- Peter Lewis