| Why burn poor and lonely under a bowl,
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| under a l&shade or on the shelf beside the bed
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| where at night you lay turning like a door on its hinges?
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| (First on your left side, then on your right side,
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| then on y our left side again)
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| Why burn poor and lonely?
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| Tell all the stones, we’re gonna make a building.
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| We’ll be cut into shape &set into place or if you’d rather
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| be a window, I’ll gladly be the frame reflecting and kind
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| words, living…
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| Anyway, aren’t you unbearably sad?
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| Then why burn so poor and lonely?
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| We’ll be like torches.
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| We’ll be like torches together!
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| With whatever respect our tattered dignity demands.
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| Torches together, were once 'one notes',
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| We were lonely wheat quietly ground into grain
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| (What light and momentary pain!)
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| So why this safe distance, this curious look?
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| Why tear out single pages when you can throw
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| away the book?
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| Why pluck one string when you can strum the guitar?
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| Strum the guitar!
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| With no beginning, with no endn
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| take down a guitar and strum the guitar if you’re
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| afraid,
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| And I’m afraid and everyone’s afraid and
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| everyone knows it but we don’t have to be afraid anymore.
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| You played the flute, but no one was dancing.
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| You sang a sad song and none of us cried. |