| Swimming in a snifter
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| Pretty as a picture
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| Don’t get it twisted man, her bite is a bitch
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| You can name, you can keep her
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| But take care when you feed her
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| You never can take the fight out the fish
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| Chomping at the drill bit
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| Never one to still sit
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| You can est my metal with a magnet and some tin snips
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| Ink test all I see is canines and some wing tips
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| Pilot pen in pocket I’m riding instinct and Ink jets
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| Around here we don’t like talk of big dreams
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| To stand out is a pride, a conceit
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| To aim high is to make waves to split seams
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| But that’s not what it seems like to me
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| Cause I wanna try I wanna risk
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| And i don’t wanna walk, rather swing and miss
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| I’m not above apologies but I don’t ask permissions
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| Got a lot of imperfections but I don’t count my ambition in them
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| Zeno’s Arrow never hits the mark
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| Its always hanging there over its shadow
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| Safe from battle, waste of arch-
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| Er’s time and trouble
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| Waste of effort, waste of parts
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| If you don’t aim for the center its a waste of the art
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| I didn’t come looking for love
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| I didn’t come to pick a fight
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| I didn’t come to wave or take pictures
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| Pander to some benefactor, ring on every broken finger
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| Won’t extend my wings to be clipped
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| I know the culture here is to stay humble but shit
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| If we all go round bowed heads, button-lipped
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| If never none of us go for the belt who wins
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| My mother says I’ve loved too many men
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| But I took and left something in every single bed
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| Turns his head
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| But he night might rise up, investigate the grid
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| Gender, genre, guess I’m on one
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| Both the constructs
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| Women, children let me tell you, I’ve been both
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| And Its a myth we all swim for the life boats
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| I didn’t come looking for love
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| I didn’t come looking for a fight
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| I come here every night to work
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| And you can pick an ax up, man
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| Or you can step aside.
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| Self taught, self made, bet, self styled
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| Self came
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| We march in Con
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| Own tools
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| My joints hold steady
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| Chucks laced ready
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| I travel by kite, travel
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| Touchdown
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| I make my own luck now
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| Zeno’s Arrow never hits the mark
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| It’s always hanging with its own shadow in the dark
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| It’s always hanging with its own shadow in the dark |