| Funny what you think of after a collapse
|
| While lying in the dirt the first thing that comes
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| Back is never quite what you’d have guessed
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| And if you could have, you probably would’ve
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| Said you’d check if all your limbs
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| Were intact still and then try to get out
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| We played house with the neighbors in their basement
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| Sister made me husband she was older so I did her bidding
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| I remember once their dad came in said, «You think this is bad?
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| You don’t know the half."And he laughed.
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| It’s funny what things come back
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| The first things you see
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| How he sort of smiled like it’s only a joke but he was lying
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| There was something else inside of his eyes
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| All those secrets people tell to little children
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| Are warnings that they give them
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| Like, «Look, I’m unhappy. |
| Please don’t make the same mistake as me.»
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| Why are those old worn out jokes on married life
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| Told at toasts at receptions still?
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| How does it never occur how often couples get
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| Burned and end uncertain in Splitsville?
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| Funny what you think of in the wreckage
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| Lying there in the dirt and the dust and the glass
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| How you’re suddenly somewhere, in the desert, in the nighttime
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| And it’s getting close to Christmas
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| And then her and that movie voice she uses when she reads,
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| «Welcome to the Land of Enchantment"from a highway sign
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| And it’s late so you take the next exit
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| When that trip ended we came back the rent was due I was jobless
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| I guess in retrospect I should’ve sensed decay
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| Then that day, how you said, «I just don’t know"and I promised
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| We’d rearrange things to fix the mess I’d made here
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| But I guess in the end we just moved furniture around 3X
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| But I guess in the end it sort of feels like every day
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| It’s harder to stay happy where you are
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| There are all these ways
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| To look through the fence into your neighbor’s yard
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| Why even risk it? |
| It’s safer to stay distant
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| When it’s so hard now to just be content
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| Because there’s always something else
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| Now I’m proposing my own toast
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| Composing my own joke for those married men
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| Maybe I’m miserable
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| I’d rather run for mayor in Splitsville than suffer your jokes again |