| I’m trying to transmute tap water into wine
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| Out here, somewhere in this Las Cruces motel room
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| The floor and ceiling vibrate, so I can barely stand
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| «Calm down,» says the Sky Man, «you're injured»
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| I dreamt last night I was halfway up the ladder to heaven
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| And I shot up this morning with an attitude
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| I charged through the city
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| And I wandered the streets
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| Trying to get answers with just my irresistible smile
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| Shouting, «Who will provide the celestial blueprint we need?»
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| Echoing voices zigzag in the night
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| In and around forest-view apartments
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| To crack a bay window and feel the fair winds
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| She throws back her head, and she lifts up her hands
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| She drives herself into an amphetamine madness
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| She says, «Tell me, just tell me I was right»
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| And she’s taken all the wrong pills
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| Her voice begins cracking
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| Her eyes open, staring at nothing
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| Do you get what I’m saying?
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| I feel my heart beating
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| I wonder how I couldn’t keep it from coming on
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| I want you so much in this wild desert heat that it’s scary
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| But I know I have done so much that could be construed as damage
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| And there’s something bad within me that makes me want to take advantage
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| When you’re tripped up, slipped up, blonde hair and black-lipped up
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| With all those silk straps 'round your ankles
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| I feel myself convinced we could do whatever all night
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| It’s high time we broke completely free of all control
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| Hi there!
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| How are you?
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| Well, I feel like my brain just exploded
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| Tell all your girlfriends I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful, I’m someone
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| Tell them it’s breezy and warm down here in this strange place
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| I will wake in the morning displaying the mark of a new man
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| Whose whole world has altered in front of his stupefied face
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| I recall when things were way more fun around here
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| But the Sky Man reminds me I’m almost a ghost of myself
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| It seems to me everything fine fell away
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| I’ve seen the forests burn and learned you have to arm yourself
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| It’s gonna be a funky fresh Christmas, and I don’t think I can handle it
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| When there’s so little dignity in anything
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| Do you feel what I feel?
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| And Christ, will you watch my back where I do roam?
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| To a room full of murderous boys with no songs of their own
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| I feel sick, I feel compromised all the way down
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| Like an eagle with all of its feathers plucked out
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| Can you see it in your mind?
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| I was inconsiderate and cold
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| But I can change if it’s such a big deal to you
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| I watch the dying sun sink on those jerk-offs in their convertibles
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| Went a little out of control, oh, with the boys out in the parking lot
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| Loneliness blinded me
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| Down in the peanut-shell bars
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| Wild, wild nights, heavy romance
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| There was Percodan spilled on the dancefloor
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| There were corpses in plain sight, and they were just walking around
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| And the good old boys on their leatherette want a woman who was down for
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| whatever
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| I learned to be compassionate by watching those working girls smile
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| Heaven was lying 'neath my feet like some wall-to-wall carpeting
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| And sometimes I believe that there’s actually no such thing as love
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| And one of these days I might not be so good to you
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| Can you see what I’m saying?
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| Come and sit where I’m sitting, oh darling
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| Because now I understand that it wasn’t you who held me back
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| There were forces beyond my control, and maybe I held myself down
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| All of that money, it gets so hard to stay yourself around
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| But girl, give me just one little chance, well, show me some trust again
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| I will sing your soul far away, up to a sparkling star
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| Where all our old friends will be waiting
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| Hold my hand and sigh in a soft whisper
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| That you don’t just care about getting what you paid for
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| And on the day that I finally die, well, I just might start screaming
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| In the one private instant I cross over that unseen line
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| The last remaining species of birds will be singing away
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| Singing goodbye to my tastes, and my face, and L. A
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| Goodbye to New Mexico and Texas
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| When I’m gone, I know there will be some things I miss
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| Hold me and help me remember
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| 'Cause it’s almost time
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| We are born wired-up, and our heads are all flooded with messages
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| That get harder to pick out, except at the start and the end
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| And you
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| My weeping friend
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| I can’t wait to describe to you what I’ll see up there
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| Though I’m sure it will be an adjustment
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| There are voices calling me from down the hallway
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| There are voices that filter up through the silence
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| And «Calm down,» says the Sky Man, «you're raving»
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| So all right
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| Nighty-night
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| Nighty-night
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| Oh, nighty-night |