| I am a rose waiting for the sun
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| Waiting to bloom into some trajectory
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| Naturally, I’m after success
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| To glide through social gymnasiums
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| Shinin' like the 's new double
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| We’ve been wearing T-shirts for days
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| Bird shit splats into a southern cross
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| And ambition descends like a mosquito. |
| out-manoeuvred
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| Lemon rot stains the brick work in the yard
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| Another arvo makes it’s way over a barbeque
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| Another dusk congeals into a glut
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| And through a screen door
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| A TV, a TV, the TV blues the room
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| Night ambush, the ultimate chorus
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| This, this is the sound of a million guitars
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| And I love that you would laugh, tease or, better, sing
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| And I’m so good at entertaining conclusions
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| Naturally, I rely on things |