| Draw your five short breaths and pretend it’s meditation
|
| To your showerhead higher power: «Gimme patience
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| Make me nobody’s robot, make me nobody’s slaughtered lamb
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| Deliver me from evil; |
| open me as best you can.»
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| Play your cracked guitar for the Boston Occupation
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| Ditch your blindfold drift; |
| aimed at aimless destinations
|
| Watch the wakened assembly live principled, righteous lives
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| With your heartbeat through set cement: «Honored to be here, guys.»
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| See it’s a slow crawl
|
| At a new wave
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| And if you feel small
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| Don’t, babe:
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| Whenever you’re alone, you’re not
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| You wait in line, cycling finished conversations
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| Straighten out the stories, edit out the faces
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| You’re lost in the file when the cashier catches your eye
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| Summon up a smile, come back to earth and mumble, «Hi, Hi, Hi»
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| And it’s connected
|
| On a timeline
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| It’s a circle
|
| No sides
|
| At the same point where it starts, it stops
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| Out on the back lot you wanted for nothing
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| You sat with your hands full, the future was open:
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| A dreamt southwestern sky
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| A moon-drenched island night
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| A newborn day, awake and alive
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| Now it’s a nightclub
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| With a guest list
|
| And uh-oh-
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| Bad news, kid:
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| Whoever’s getting in, we’re not
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| So let’s start up our own, just us
|
| Where anything we need, anything we need
|
| Anything we need we’ve got |