| A monster used to chase me
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| Used to jump from the top of my stairs
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| I used to sit in the rain on the wet leaves
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| On top of the shed roof (if my mother knew)
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| The clock on the wall has a good time with my time
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| The rainstorming brainstorm is on its way
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| The pale color of the door that’s seen everything before
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| But just from only one side
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| No warning, history rears it’s ugly head
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| (Stepped on it’s tale)
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| Still running from what I chase
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| The lesson learned has come so frail
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| The clock has fallen and the cuckoo’s calling
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| And the blackbirds congregate and shuffle their wings
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| I’m on the wire and they call me a liar
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| But this time I’m going to sing
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| Big words escapefakerapeescape
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| Just how I feel
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| My textureless history I store in a textured bag
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| (It's painted real fine)
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| Your serious laughing, infectious clapping
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| Still a beat behind
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| Let’s get to the root of the matter I have no roots
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| No matter I’ll grow my own
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| Quitting’s easier time is greasier
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| Slipping from the metranome
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| Big words bad time
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| Yeahyeahyaeh |