| Hey
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| Warm cider, barn full of spiders
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| Orange moon, starry night, particle exciters
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| In a pageant rivaled only by the origin of fire
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| Now add an organism from alternative environs
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| A dozen pair of cartoon eyes in a thicket
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| To see a neophyte get sliced into ribbons
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| I’m here to pick lice off each other and assimilate
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| Duck a suit, troubleshoot his moody user interface
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| True and suckerproof, grew to fully disengage
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| Float his only vanishing point away from the picture plane
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| Go to where the radio trails off
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| And people catch rabies on the way to their mailbox
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| Under a sideways rain cornering the briar
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| Still pull a broad sword from a hoarded synthesizer
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| Nap in a hole in a tree
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| Cat leaving voles at my feet
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| Talking Master P, memory foam everything
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| Jettison the rest and roulette us a new trajectory
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| Spinal Tap 11, tapping resin out the evergreen
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| Designated dark horse, headless independently
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| Sidewalks end with ponds and frog eggs
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| Buried bones, and his very own blurry sasquatch vids
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| Led like field ants to a hot lens
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| 8 o’clock kittens vs cobwebs, fight!
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| Maps won’t work here
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| Ice over bittersweet nightshade
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| Antlers rise from his migraine
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| Shred or die, life’s strange
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| How do you identify?
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| New with the matutinal or peckish with the vespertine
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| Me, I’m pretty useless
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| Til the roof is painted Gemini, then set him free
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| Eat his own body weight in genocide
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| Came back a decorated dog of war
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| Who wants more though he currently stuck in the dog door
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| Additionally, dog isn’t even his final form
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| Just a period, between greenhorn and Hyperion
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| Peer into the eye of a primordial experience
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| Portamento warriors in unforgiving wilderness
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| Borderline ethereal, Noah’s Ark room tone
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| Add a little up high down low too slow
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| Found acquaintances a pain to babysit
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| So he gave away his shit and gave 'em all the slip
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| Now pets hit the ceiling when the wind blows
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| Fish float belly up songbirds crash into windows
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| Swizzle apple cider vinegar and dish soap
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| Suicide flies take dips in the kill zone
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| Still shuffle thru a stack of old photos
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| Taken before the varicose verified Chronos
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| I dunno it feels weird
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| I’d rather feed an apple to a deer
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| I might’ve heard something in the walls
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| Could’ve been voices
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| Could’ve been claws
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| Coulda been the rebel yell of something more evolved
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| Pounding on the front door and standing on the lawn like
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| «Wadup»
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| Ain’t shit |