| Things could have been better
|
| they sure could not have gotten much worse
|
| when there were tears out in the alley
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| and laughter waiting out front in the hearse
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| and there’s remark about contender
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| repulsa ain’t too hard to find
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| conclusion based on surrender
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| and the general dismissal
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| on the merit of mankind
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| the snakes and the saw-toothes
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| they lay loving the buck
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| spending all their time setting up camp
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| and running amuck
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| light Is not the neon filler
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| not the memory of sun filled days by solar spark
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| light is the moses
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| splitting the waves in a sea so dark
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| there’s a town in the high desert
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| where doctor gene scott says the demons run
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| alongside a chunk of heaven hovering there
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| where the wind in the image of the throne rides shotgun
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| riddles of the wonderment, wonders of the firmament
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| and me laid up, laid off and laying low
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| things could have been better
|
| they sure could not have gotten any worse
|
| tears out in the alley way
|
| and laughter waiting out front there in the hearse |