| A thread of birds has settled outside your door
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| Spring is coming, and you lean back
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| Waiting for its root-juicy kiss
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| Politely, charmingly
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| Once during a summer
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| You came without shoes, without any maps
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| And settled into my elbow
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| While this hemisphere turned blue
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| We were urban, unkind animals
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| And I never once thought of Champagne
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| How often you’d want me to tell you your future
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| Show me your palms, the lumps on your head
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| As if I knew what my mother knows best
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| How to inflame things at a distance
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| Now you think of me with a casual chuckle
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| Now you save me like an auctioned-off bon-bon
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| Brought out on a doily for guests to admire
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| I know, and it’s all in my pocket
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| Just press your ear against your back door
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| There’s a sound I’ve sent
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| It’s there to haunt you
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| Like a cello, like a buzzsaw
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| I hope you’re enjoying yourself |