| The world has changed its aspect because I willed it so
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| In the infinitude of its scope — I am free to roam, I’m free
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| So keep tour wooden world in your sleeve
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| And not for anything, should you stop running
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| Mother, please forgive me
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| Father, listen to me now
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| Brother can’t you hear the inexorable sound?
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| The march of time drawing close
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| Just like a phalanx of ghosts
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| I was eating crow for a good eight months
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| Before I found the good sense to regurgitate it all up
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| These are still salad days, the rudimentary runs
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| And there’s not a fucking thing to keep you from what’s yet to come
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| You’re free. |
| So keep your wooden world in your sleeve
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| And not for anything should you stop running
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| I know a liberation that so many don’t
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| And I’ve felt a camaraderie that so many won’t
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| I believe that the rat race will put ice in your heart
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| And I know not to take my dreams for granted
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| If I don’t want them to fall apart
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| (I know hindsight can relieve but it won’t set you free. Let it go now, no)
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| I know a liberation that so many don’t
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| Just knowing that we’ll never run out of road
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| Hindsight can relieve but it won’t set you free
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| These contemporary lies are no longer bothering me
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| I’ll never squander ever waning youth
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| The bullshit doesn’t matter because you’ve always got you |