| The bird branch twig is broken, so move it along
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| On the trail where the Sun fell down and shattered needle
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| For the pattern on your fur where lichen so long
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| To the perch of rotting log, for wood bark beetle
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| I do admit, it’s getting better all the time
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| My motor mouth is busy celebrating
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| The misty mountain high, I like it bounty fine
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| Ten knuckles wrap around the nest I’m raiding
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| So one, two, easy
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| Hanto Yo Three
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| For the bird-breath cat is me
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| My coat is made of autumn leaves, all dyin on their branches
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| When they die, as a phantom lies
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| I’ve lost my life so many times
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| So many times, I see that the cat that the cat with bird breath mouth is me
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| Oh bird brain, you’re perched low enough to feel my breath
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| So you can see my whiskers while you’re singing
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| My, what feathers have be got, like all the rest
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| Below your tree, I’ll wait with what I’m bringing
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| And the roar you feel as I come cross that rumble-roo
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| As taste it from the meadow in the distance
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| I was hungry early on, this much is true
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| And one moment, your range is our existence
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| So one, two, easy
|
| Hanta Yo Three
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| With the cat with the bird-breath mouth is me
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| Pet me in the wrong way
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| Scratchin' bloody mouth paw
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| Give tough granted
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| One, two, three
|
| We’ll be where the sky meets paper, meets pen meets probably
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| Cling to the branch, we’ll see I’m the bird-breath cat in the sky, slanted
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| Through the way unto doth say it
|
| And the third time we display it
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| As death and destruction, things fall apart sometimes
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| With the blood that stopped in vain
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| And the oxygen it claims
|
| It’s dark at the door, and the bell on its wretched chime
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| So the branch is broken too
|
| And the only thing left to do
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| Recollect yourself, put a face on, tattered, and true
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| For the stars are to your eyes
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| And the universe, your size
|
| And a quick away wide will in face that it all come through
|
| So Hanta Yo Three
|
| We want to see that the bird-breath cat is me
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| Sing a small song then fly on by
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| I’m flattened by the freeway
|
| One, two, three
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| We’ll meet from the brisk and cleave from the eyes never gotten me
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| Go to the big blank vine, to sing song blind
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| You’re finally free! |