| The only car on the raw sheet highway is riding
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| The stars for him are only coat lining
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| You cannot sweat a piebald horse and make it a steed
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| I cannot take your want and make it a need
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| They keep wasting you, wasting you
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| Just to get a taste you
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| They’ve been wasting you, wasting you
|
| Just to get a taste of you
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| Ted saw a black man’s lips
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| And a movie star’s blond
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| He shook her little bobby sox
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| Until the thrill was gone, the thrill was gone
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| He had tasted her, tasted her
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| Smiled right into the base of her
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| He kept racing her, racing her
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| Stayed alive, outpacing her
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| Blue bore the quiet land the best that he could
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| He learned war was silent and he understood
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| The fleshy pages of women wet from the rain
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| The rising, flooding water, feeling no pain, feeling no pain
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| Alone waits in him, aches in him
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| Takes up more than it makes of him
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| Alone shakes in him, hates in him
|
| Thrums in the subway gate of him
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| She gathered rocks and twigs up in her skirt
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| She got the tired, wired drugs to make her get hurt
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| She ordered nature to her design
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| She went to sleep and dreamed asleep and it felt more fine, it felt more fine
|
| The drug banked on her, blanked for her
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| Never bowed to the rank in her
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| It low-sank in her, drank in her
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| Never bothered with thanking her
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| They keep wasting me, wasting me
|
| Eating up more than a taste of me
|
| This time shakes in me, takes of me
|
| Uses up more than it makes of me |