| The conditional world when put in context
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| Leaves nothing but a sound
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| A spec of dust might make
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| The landscape is indifferent to your mood
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| Your ideas
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| Your footsteps
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| LIke these grey clouds that are meant to bring you down
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| They only bring down the rain
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| And all the life lived in those bones
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| Lies a life that leaves little to explain
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| But like a clown
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| You’ll stick around for fame
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| Tell me did you ever meet another clown
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| That said I’ll be around for you now
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| The typical code of conduct
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| At the international clown hall of fame
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| Not to smile until you’ve painted on your smile
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| You go looking for laughter
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| Yeah you could be another poet like
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| John Crowe Ransom, Whitman or Hart Crane
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| All those words you leave behind
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| Will fit together in time
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| LIke a clown
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| You’ll do anything for game
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| Tell me did you ever meet another clown
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| Who said I’ll be around for you now
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| Like a clown
|
| You’ll stick around for fame
|
| Tell me did you ever meet another clown
|
| Who said I’ll be around for you now
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| So I won’t let you mix up my name
|
| No I won’t let you mix up my name
|
| No I won’t let you mix up my name
|
| No I won’t let you mix up my name
|
| No I won’t let you mix up my name |