| Cast skyward by strange magic of Sun, Rain, Wind
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| Who can still doubt miracles?
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| Strange overtones, god bless the overgrown child that could
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| Hold his own throwin' stones at a sky full of drones
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| He clipped a wing then fell to earth and hit close to home
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| And found insects nesting in his mobile phone
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| It’s wishful thinking that a song can heal a sick rose
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| I sit and pull thistles out my thick skull, live slow
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| Keep it simple, sweep the fallen leaves out the temple
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| When it’s ten below freezin' and the cold wind blows
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| Some nights we overindulge, kick back, shoot the
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| Shallow shit, chew the pig fat, act on impulse
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| Met my love after Elohim sewed my ribs closed
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| With devils sellin' dreams at the disco. |
| Took her hand and
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| Stumbled toward the exit, felt the pressure build
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| Precious virtuosic flesh clarinetist dressed to kill
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| I’ll sit alone and watch the rain fallin' from your eyes
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| When they crack the seventh seal below the solemn summer sky
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| Birds in a cage (cage), rats in the belly (belly)
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| Snakes in the grass (grass), bats in the belfry (I been thinking)
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| About the ocean that professed love to Ishmael
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| While siftin' through the serpent-like intestines of a sick whale
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| (That sounds dangerous) beneath the sleep-like veil
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| I read the stomach lining of the beast like braille
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| And walk the street feelin' like my feet might fail
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| That- That’s how I learn — you can do it too
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| I’m learnin' not to hold my tongue — but how to hold a tune
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| With a drop’a golden sun leakin' from an open wound
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| Below the full moon — reposin' in the womb
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| Stickin' acupuncture pins in your thick skull balloon
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| I make my way through the forest and chart progress
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| Followin' the queen, runnin' with sharp objects
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| Stop, catch your breath, set the hatchet down, dig a hole and
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| Bury it, god bless the poet proletariat
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| The lowly, lost laureate down on both knees
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| Chokin' back tears while the world moves at full speed
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| You give 'em time, they’ll pilfer the village blind
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| What’s ill is they’re building shrines to realists and philistines
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| And hide shame with pride — I’m guilty of the same sin
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| Born with the same snake attached at the brain stem
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| Strange beautiful things losin' their wings
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| From heaven’s promised heights to the crucible flames — listen:
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| Birds in a cage (cage), rats in the belly (belly)
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| Snakes in the grass (grass), bats in the belfry (I been thinking)
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| About the ocean that professed love to Ishmael
|
| While siftin' through the serpent-like intestines of a sick whale
|
| (That sounds dangerous) beneath the sleep-like veil
|
| I read the stomach lining of the beast like braille
|
| And walk the street feelin' like my feet might fail
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| That’s how I learn — you can do it too |