| You exclaimed your proclamations
|
| But they fell on crowded ears
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| With everybody clamoring from contact
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| And extinction pollinating all their fears
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| Wasted entertainment
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| City boy becomes a city rat
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| There’s a mothlight in a bottle of ammonia
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| And we’re selling tickets just to see how they react
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| You can stand above me looking down
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| But I can see from here it’s just a broken ladder
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| And I would trade my place with you in hell
|
| 'Cause I can say for sure it doesn’t even matter
|
| You can stand above me looking down
|
| But I can see from here it’s just a broken ladder
|
| And I would trade my place with you in hell
|
| 'Cause I can say for sure it doesn’t even matter
|
| You exclaimed your proclamations
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| Pour another drink
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| When the cynicism outweighs the pollution
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| Then it always feels encouraging to sink
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| Patterns are contagions
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| Princesses and crooks
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| First we’re grazing in the sunshine
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| Then we’re hanging by a hook
|
| You can stand above me looking down
|
| But I can see from here it’s just a broken ladder
|
| And I would trade my place with you in hell
|
| 'Cause I can say for sure it doesn’t even matter
|
| You can stand above me looking down
|
| But I can see from here it’s just a broken ladder
|
| And I would trade my place with you in hell
|
| 'Cause I can say for sure it doesn’t even matter
|
| You can stand above me looking down
|
| But I can see from here it’s just a broken ladder
|
| And I would trade my place with you in hell
|
| 'Cause I can say for sure it doesn’t even matter |