| In some strangers house to the only open ear
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| You made your next confession
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| On these hot summer nights you have suffered delusions
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| Between the movie house and the drug store
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| You claim necessary fictions
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| In this train station town, were you meant to unravel?
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| You welcome home with open arms each returning soldier,
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| And try to convince them that nothing has changed
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| I know about your obsessions
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| I have held and fed them all
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| I know all about each one of your obsessions
|
| Last of the late night/early morning confessions
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| In all these years you still haven’t
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| learned that a busy ant has no worries
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| No one can carry twice their own weight in despair
|
| You love the sight of an audience attentive to your lil' sparrow
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| With a delicate chirp it reveals an imprisoned insight
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| You need to feel the weight of
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| release by spilling your guts to strangers
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| But you will always question the sincerity of their applause
|
| I know all about your obsessions
|
| I have held and fed them all
|
| I know all about each one of your obsessions
|
| Last of the late night/ early morning confessions |