| Here I sit in my bones, on the bones upon the hill
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| Staring out at the wild, blue yonder
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| Digging deep, I’d found buttons in my pockets
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| Naked now my skin begins to crawl
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| I dream Suits, I see Suits
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| Looking back, was there ever such a moment
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| Immersed in mystery I was witnessing a crime
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| Digging deep I came across a murder
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| Among the roots of our spreading family tree
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| We learned to love, we learned to kill
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| We taught ourselves to rule the world
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| I dream Suits, I see Suits
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| Do you see Suits, can you dream Suits?
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| There I stood, face pressed against the window
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| I know his number, but I’ll never know his name
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| Behind the glass buried in the sockets
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| A recognition, my skin begins to crawl
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| We learned to love, we learned to kill
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| We taught ourselves to rule this world
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| But who’s the one we’re frightened of
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| We are the sons of 1470
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| The geese fly chevrons cross the night sky
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| Heading south, the hunters lead them on
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| Jets trail the hems of skirts of angels
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| A train threads along that very floor
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| So here we live in our bones, on the bones beneath the soil
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| Staring out, mortal in the darkness
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| Digging deep we try to find the answers
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| To all the questions that hatch within our skulls
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| We learned to love, we learned to kill
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| We taught ourselves to rule this world
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| For who’s the one we’re frightened of?
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| We are the son of 1470
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| I dream of Suits. |
| Do you dream Suits? |