| I go out walking with the old departed,
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| And I’ve been dreaming of these souls,
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| I feel so close in darkness,
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| I’ve got the vapor on my skin,
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| Tasting cold hard history each time my body chooses to,
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| Breath in a bird there is a honey bee,
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| Within richness there is polity,
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| Stick religion up your blasphemy
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| Mister Richard Christopher and Anthony,
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| Christopher and Anthony
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| Christopher and Anthony
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| Christopher and Anthony
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| Christopher and Anthony
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| And if they feed me to the lions,
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| At least the name that’s swallowed up somehow gets left behind,
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| It’s on my passport and mine too,
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| Stop with me religously,
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| Like prisoners with gantile
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| To the east the wind was westily
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| Wicked witches ducked regretfully,
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| This harmonica are mine eternally,
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| Mister Richard Christopher Anthony,
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| Christopher and Anthony,
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| Christopher and Anthony
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| Christopher and Anthony
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| Christopher and Anthony |