You will hear the dripping rain dripping
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Hat, foot, foot, snare, or EKG of hearts
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EKG hearts, i.e. snare, foot, foot, hat
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Drum rain drips when you listen to its reverse
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I sit alone, sometimes time overwhelms me too
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The key is hanging, so I'll cut its loops
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You know, I'm not a complete jazzman
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I am deaf to directions, the clock heals with sound
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I can see the reflection on the glass, this is my face
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What the fear hides, the head rests on the table top
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I'm not cursing, it's enough that words are a curse
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They don't care if you love their message
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Apnea, I want oxygen, so I catch space
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I make an epic with sound, here in the director
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On stage, I recite, what can I do, you know
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The only thing I fear so much is the shadow ...
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All i need is one mic
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And just when I closed the notebook
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A boy approached my window to bring out a melody
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The accordion moment chanted a D minor chord
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He must have reached the third floor through space
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I hope I put hope on you
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As Bacchus know this, I am giving him my blessing with the rest
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An eagle with tails flew too, with a coin
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Without it, he is flightless and silver is his target
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A free bird that cares for its wings
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He saw us and stopped on the roof as if he could hear
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He read his mind as the accordionist stepped off the lawn
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The bird fluttered once, soared above the snares
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Silence. |
He soared over the blocks
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I hide my eyes because it hurts less under my eyelids
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I am looking for an analogy to get rid of this uncertainty
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And the only thing I see day after day is a shadow of freedom, like a monument ...
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These clouds are probably out there for spite
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They block out the light, the sad contour of the gray-and-gray curtains
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A suicide scaffold for those obedient to torturers
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He's playing that medicine to strangle this town
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Tell the residents that you have run out of letters
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Sentences, words, analogies, signs, numbers
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I have their catalogs on the run
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I'm not an icon, but you recreated me on the desktop
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If someone turns off the lamps, that's very good
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'Cause I don't want you to stick your eyes on that face anymore
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I want to be word, speech, sound, deed
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And not a billboard, which lives by any kitsch
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Life is not about it, it is another side of it
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My painting is meant to suggest, not to look
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The road to riches is still an apparent road
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Trust the rays of the sun and you will come out of the shade, see ... |