| 8:45 appears, I’m privately alarmed
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| Taking shots out of a spray paint can, shot flares into the dark
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| Tree bark on the glass, our Homewood permanent cocoon
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| And you’re trying to remember the last year you saw the moon
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| Was it 1998? |
| Was it 2002?
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| Were there aliens among us? |
| Were they treating us like food?
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| Was it 2003? |
| Was it 2024?
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| Was it back when I realized there’d be no more Year of the Lord?
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| What an empty, gorgeous place
|
| Oh, what an empty, gorgeous place
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| 2:25 appears and I’m hanging by a thread
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| Your arms bend with a frustration like I’m already dead
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| Just because I can’t remember who I used to be
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| It doesn’t mean that I can’t tell you when I’m evaporating
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| There is nothing in your eyes, there is nothing in the wind
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| There were two individual trauma cases to amend
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| I’m a million years away, you’re another million more
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| So we count the days until they just don’t need us anymore
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| What an empty, gorgeous place
|
| Oh, what an empty, gorgeous place
|
| Oh, what an empty gorgeous place
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| I belong here
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| I belong |