| A rainbow tour bus winds upwards through a scenic turf war
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| If your kinetosis doesn’t get you first, the white guilt will will will
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| The view from broken bottle make out spots is panoramic
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| If nostalgia hasn’t slit my wrists this premonition will will will
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| Volcanic dirt stains feet and won’t wash out of clothing this is
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| Where your ashes should be strewn instead of some cold mainland suburb
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| I’d say hello if I remembered how to find your headstone
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| If Tantalus can’t save us then a vigil never will will will will
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| The motor coach floats upwards
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| Then it’s gone completely
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| Tantalus, Tantalus, we are tourists on a bus
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| Now the skies are watching us
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| Tantalus, Tantalus, we are tourists on a bus
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| Now the skies are watching us
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| Tantalus, Tantalus, we are tourists on a bus
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| Now the skies are watching us
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| Tantalus, Tantalus, we are tourists on a bus
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| Now the skies are watching us
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| Tantalus, Tantalus, we are tourists on a bus
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| Now the skies are watching us |