| By the second verse, dear friends
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| My head will burst, my life will end
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| So I’d like to start this one off by saying «Live and love»
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| I was young and at home in bed
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| And I was hanging on the words some poem said in '31
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| I was impressionable, I was upsettable
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| I tried to make my breathing stop
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| Or my heartbeat slow
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| So when my mom and John came in I would be cold
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| From a bridge on Washington Avenue
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| The year of 1972, broke my bones and skull
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| And it was memorable
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| It was half a second in, I was halfway down
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| Do you think I wanted to turn back around and teach a class
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| Where you kiss the ass that I’ve exposed to you?
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| And at the funeral, the university
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| Cried at three poems they’d present
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| In place of a broken me
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| I was breaking in a case of suds at the Brass Rail
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| A fall-down drunk with his tongue torn out
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| And his balls removed
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| And I knew that my last lines were gone
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| While, stupidly, I lingered on
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| Oh, but wise men know when it’s time to go
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| And so I should, too
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| And so I fly into the brightest winter sun
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| Of this frozen town, I’m stripped down to move on
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| My friends, I’m gone
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| Well, I hear my father fall
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| And I hear my mother call
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| And I hear the others all whispering, «Come home»
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| I’m sorry to go
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| I loved you all so
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| But this is the worst trip I’ve ever been on
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| So hoist up the John B. sail
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| See how the mainsail sets
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| I’m full in my heart and my head
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| And I want to go home
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| With a book in my hand
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| In the way I had planned
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| Well, this is the worst trip I’ve ever been on
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| Hoist up the John B. sail
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| See how the mainsail sets
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| I’m full in my heart and my head
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| And I want to go home
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| With a book in each hand
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| In the way I had planned
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| Well, I feel so broke up, I want to go home |