| I wondered the fields and listen for the sound of drums
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| The colder the ground becomes the closer I get I home
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| The planet’s not fit to roam but with all the chaos
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| But, when I saw the savages I played the law of averages
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| And when the river splits in half, I start to lose my wits and laugh
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| And cry at the same time, there’s nothing I can do about it
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| Even though I wouldn’t doubt it, if the winds began to blow
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| And carry the sounds of my voice to the lands below
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| So I put my hands around my mouth and hollered to the sunken city
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| That, wallows in the filth of its own drunken pity
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| And wait to see a signal but a signal is never seen
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| Eventually fatigue builds inside me exponentially and so I sleep
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| And dream that I’m able to FLY they will respect a man with wings!
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| Later I awake, in agony and learn
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| That while I was sleeping the city had burned
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| Shrugging my shoulders, I paused and gathered thoughts
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| Think twice about staying put, then decide I rather not
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| So I press on in my agnostic pilgrimage
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| Knowing that I can swim deeper than the grim reaper
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| Ready for whatever sea creatures may abound
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| When the water swallows me and not the other way around
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| Survival saw me through the mechanical district
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| Starvation leads to being cannibalistic
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| I have to rely on cons and silence and on talking quick
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| Defending myself with nothing but this walking stick
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| I’ve never had friends and no parental guidance
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| I’m wild at heart and weird on top, I’m feared nonstop
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| Even though my rage is worn out
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| My life’s a book with several pages torn out
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| I just, climb trees and look for rhythm everywhere
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| I used to be the town crier in a city of stone throwers
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| Until my soul was laid bare and displayed in the parade square
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| Ignored, more than a lot, not less, no one understood my thought, process
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| I was gagged and bound over noise complaints
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| But, commanding the resolve that destroys constraints
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| I, found my escape in a melding of memories
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| The next thing I know, I’m rowing this boat
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| And blowing this note on an old tarnished trumpet
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| Ever since then I’ve been wondering lots
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| Watching the sky and pondering thoughts
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| Strange angel, music box genie
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| Behind for sometime and now I’m blind in one eye
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| And how this happened exactly will never be known
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| My thoughts take the shape of the hang-mans house
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| Never fails in time traveling salesman visit |