| In blizzard of '77
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| The cars were just lumps on the snow
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| And then later
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| Tripping in 7−11
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| The shelves were stretching out of control
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| On a plane ride
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| The more it shakes
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| The more i have to let go
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| Now the signals
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| Still getting all mixed up
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| We’re always doing damage control
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| But in the middle of the night i worry
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| It’s blurry even without light
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| I know i have got a negative edge
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| That’s why i sharpen all the others a lot
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| It’s like flowers or ladybugs
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| Pretty weeds or red beetles with dots
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| I miss you more than i knew |