| I’m looking forward to losing all my hair
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| I’m looking forward to looking backward
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| Multiple suns have always guided me
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| Multiple suns, to do my bidding
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| I recall my youth with Klock:
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| A bubbling boob of hate
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| Still, I fashioned not one crime
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| And Klock, ofcourse, was arrested
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| They turned his mind to paste
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| Yes, it happens all the time
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| Now you ask me 'why so many suns?'
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| One for each murder me and my angel done
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| De profundis; |
| how I love to live this loose!
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| De profundis; |
| with my Donald Duck orange juice!
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| Klock was like an older brother
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| And for awhile I was he
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| Or rather he was I
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| Now I regard him as another
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| One of my sovereign suns
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| Yes, this happens all the time
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| The Harpies scatter; |
| intestines unravel
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| Better than memory: actual time travel
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| Heavens abound in pomegranite light
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| Heavens abound; |
| I gain back my overbite
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| I am their only planet
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| Suns of the bluest flame
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| Stoic, yet volitile
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| If’n the past come hither
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| I keep the gaslight burning
|
| Because it could happen any time |