| I’m dead, nothing matters now that I am flowers
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| I’m dead
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| Put a mark on the page where your face came off, came off
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| And your life will be saved and arranged into two hour segments
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| I can cut myself up, I can take this country to bed
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| No more trouble sleeping, no more back rubs from earnest Freemasons
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| Your Majesty thinks of life and death as amendments to previous worlds
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| But a person’s body is too small to hold all of these
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| Disappointed stories and allusions to hard water
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| I can choose who I love, I can disappoint my parents
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| Planning for my future, I eat th flesh of my enemis
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| I’m dead, nothing matters now that I am flowers
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| I’m dead
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| I can’t help you call them out
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| I can’t help you call them out
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| Default human knows no pain but gets all the liniment
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| Default human, not by gain, but by birth right
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| I’m not asking you to question it, no, not at all
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| I’m not offering a chance to make it right
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| A fabulous prize and an effortless handshake will be yours, my friend
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| All roads in this town lead to another loose end |
| Entirely splintered with eyes on the ground
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| A face to forget in a room too small
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| And all along the walls were laughing
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| Sounds unheard until the years were gone
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| And that’s all she wrote, old buddy, old pal
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| As simple as that, no twist ending, or even any real sense of redemption
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| Two friends who love each other very much |