| man made mostly to be unable to come close to each other,
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| like brother loves brother, rubs me the wrong way.
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| mom say, «play together nice or don’t play at all.»
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| but i don’t believe that, in fact, with every word i scrawl.
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| i can see my calling, crystal clear, falling into place next to fear.
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| i’ll long to kiss your lips but i’ll be gone within the year.
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| and here i stand in the middle of a parade,
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| where the band played on beyond the dawn’s early light brigade.
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| they came and went and everyone did exactly as they were told,
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| they only knew that leopold the bold would give them a chance to grow old.
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| and that’s the man i want to walk behind blind-folded,
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| with golden mind-control to find the hole
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| that’s been ripped along the dotted-line and folded
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| back together again. |
| i can still remember when
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| i met you open-eyed in the opium den.
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| that was the first time i saw july fly, and know not why,
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| but from then on, my callin' became clouded.
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| my scrawlin' became shrouded with thoughts of you,
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| often i wonder what my pops would do.
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| would he stand and shake your hand or
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| clench his fist as he talked to you?
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| well i was taught to do only one thing at a time
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| and record it as the truth until i prove it was mine.
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| so with that in mind, i leave with everything i know,
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| i love you like leather-bound books but it looks like i gotta go.
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| i’ll always be yours,
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| sincerely,
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| scribbin' the scribe
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| july, i’ll be home when i can. |