| Wipe the dead skin from these keys
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| So I can start this one off clean
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| Let me introduce the scene
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| Act 1 scene 1 a baby grand with broken strings
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| Enter stage left a drifter lost and foraging
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| And in his hand a notebook filled up with his out-of-tune musings
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| He turns a page and he plays and sings this song
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| Five billion suffering while i sleep underground
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| Always en route to the next goodbye
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| A mother slaps her child but the kid don’t make a sound
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| And to my surprise neither do i
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| So i’ll just cut out my tongue and rip out my lungs
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| 'cause they’re useless and atrophied
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| And i’ll fly them like kites applauding their sacrifice
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| Oh yes it’ll be one great afternoon
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| Hell yes it’ll be one great afternoon
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| When these burdens fly away like red balloons
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| Have i gone insane
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| Dreaming of hijacking this train
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| Tears stream as i accelerate
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| To speeds where time willingly dilates
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| And i’ll watch this world die through these windows
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| It’s blurring but I still see people who could use my help
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| So I reach out
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| But i’m moving too fast
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| So I cry loud
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| I can’t hold my grasp
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| With no home my only keys are these yellowed ivories
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| And i’ll ask them rhetorically
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| Is this all that my hands can do? |