| Father of my morning,
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| Once my child to the night
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| I see that you have minds to cop
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| And I can only watch the sickened sorrow
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| Little do you know
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| Of the progressions that you teach
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| The people that you reach are tired
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| Of livin' in a world of elastic towers
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| Dance with them and sing a song of changes
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| And talk with them of life and all its dangers
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| Surround yourself with now familiar strangers
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| Who kiss and who hug and eventually mug you of your time
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| And the clock on the wall is a bore
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| As you wander past the door
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| And find him lying on the floor
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| As he begs you for some more, you frozen smile
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| You cannot ever picture me You know me by my thoughts
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| A file for your travelogue
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| Oblivious to the night, the fog around you
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| The germs they are ridiculous
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| They bother you at night
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| The blood that rushes to your brain
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| The ticket on the plane you’re never catching
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| The price you pay exclusive of your taxes
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| To chop you up inside with tiny axes
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| The girl looks up to you from floors she waxes
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| And speaks to your belt with tears among her eyes
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| And the clock on the wall is a bore
|
| As you wander past the door
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| And find him lying on the floor
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| As he begs you for some more, you frozen smile
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| The metaphysic wrinkles in the face of what you face
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| Are hidden by the fake-up man
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| Who lives inside the sterno can beside you
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| Now climb ye to the mountains
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| As the sun is almost gone
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| Escaping from your other selves
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| Your brothers hide among the shelves inside you
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| The games that people play can only bore you
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| But only those that know you don’t ignore you
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| How many times have I come there to restore you
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| And caught you lying on the couch with father time
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| And the clock on the wall is a bore
|
| As you wander past the door
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| And find him lying on the floor
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| As he begs you for some more, you frozen smile |