| I’m sendin' you this photograph of me in my new car
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| But I hate to say I miss you cause you don’t need me anymore
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| You politely say I miss you but we know you don’t mean that anymore
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| Like when the toc tic finally caught you, then you weaseled through the door
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| Through the door of consciousness, San Francisco
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| Oh you make it so
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| Oh you make it so long on me
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| Someone who smokes pot in the subway
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| Pot in the subway with me
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| Oh destructo, you’re so destruct
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| Oh you so destructive to me
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| No destruction in the waking hour
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| No destruction in the waking wind
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| No destruction in the waking hour
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| No corruption in the waking moon
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| I’m talking to my grandma who lost her arms in the war
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| The aliens and armory that bond hers to God’s door
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| Now you think that I don’t know but I know you to know quite well
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| That I caught you sipping milkshakes in the parlor of the hotel
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| There’s no need to be an asshole, you’re not in Brooklyn anymore
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| You may take what you are given but you leave it on the floor
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| And I know you’re gonna try to take my big mouse
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| Take the panels off my greenhouse
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| Oh but the door of consciousness isn’t open anymore
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| Oh you think it’s over, oh you think it’s over with me
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| Someone who smokes pot in the subway
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| Pot in the subway with me
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| Oh destructo, you’re so destructive
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| Oh you so destructive to me
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| No destruction in the waking hour
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| No destruction in the waking wind
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| No destruction in the waking hour
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| No corruption on the mountain high
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| No destruction in the waking hour
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| No destruction in the waking wind
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| No destruction, no destruction
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| No destruction… |