| Do you remember when
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| The sound designers said to me
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| I just want to be
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| High all the time
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| And I said to them
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| I just want to be
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| Thinking how everything‘s perfectly wrong
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| While playing arpeggios ever so quietly
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| A couple boys with voices
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| Somewhere in the landscape
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| The pushcart poet gave them their choices
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| Politics or romance
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| Now everything is perfect
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| And everything is wrong
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| And everything’s apparently written in stone as they cry out like zombies
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| With their opposite answers
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| Do you remember when
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| We said «Maybe this is dead
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| This music we have made
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| This room that we have filled with beasts
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| Shouting at each other‘s faces»
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| Oh, fuck another word
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| Fuck another bluebird
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| Everything is perfectly wrong
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| Fuck another sacrificial song laid out like a snake getting eaten by
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| Our children in the sunset
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| Desperate sadness for no reason will overcome sometimes
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| When everything is perfect and
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| Everything is wrong
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| And then everything is coming up sunshine
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| You‘ll be fine
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| You‘ll be fine
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| Alongside the love of an actual life
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| Along for the ride of an actual lifetime
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| So please take me dancing in Mexico City
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| Where desperate sadness for no reason overcomes me
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| And everything is perfect and perfectly wrong
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| And then desperate sadness for no reason moves along
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| It is good to move on
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| Have many lives and
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| Shed your skin and
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| Sing
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| But I could use a spirit that just hangs out on my shoulder
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| Just to whisper in my ear that it’s okay to just get older
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| Yeah it’s okay to do this
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| Yeah it’s okay to do this
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| Yeah it’s okay to do this
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| This way |