| Exotic vision
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| Permanently red-light
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| Squinting for hours
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| Natural American spirit doctorate
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| Make love to inanimate objects
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| Pasteboard decked out in Ikea finery
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| Without use of a pole she swings
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| Her thighs clamped 'round infinity
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| In the eye of a maelstrom of Marlboro mail-order memorabilia
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| Rivers, mountains and smoking shirt jackets
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| I am his liver
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| I’m gray and decaying
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| My texture’s a sidewalk
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| And Notre Dame’s playing
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| Afternoon’s wristwatch
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| Deposited in nightstand’s drawer
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| If Jerry knew he’d build a marquee
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| And charge her silent watchers
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| And they’d pay in foreign-looking coins
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| That would turn to dust in his dresser, by morning, yeah
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| You’re gaslighting me
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| I can see through the dusk beams
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| Walking with your fingers in splints, yeah
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| Blue menagerie, like a frigid pastoral
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| I would do anything, throw everything away
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| In her last moments I pined for times
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| When I could never have dreamed of being responsible
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| For the charred remains presently huffed by the most famous of
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| The celebrity teenage drug casualties
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| The wind the wind the wind the wind the wind the wind |