| We’ve come to replace your clock’s old stubborn hands
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| We are the answer to why they never had a chance
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| It was not so long ago that the world was mostly slow
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| The age of iron, steam and speed
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| Turned a stroll to a stampede
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| But we’ve come to increase time in between ticks
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| And there is romance in the slow dances
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| 'Cause they’re fertile in hush, futile in haste
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| These are your nerves, this is how they taste
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| Well, I can’t count how many times I’ve been outdone by nihilism
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| Joined the march that splits an open heart into a schism
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| I cower at the thought of other people’s expectations
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| And yet, still hand over mine to them
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| Travel where you are, tourism is sin
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| These are the ruins we left behind, you can’t take pictures of them
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| If what they say is true, then you become what you chew
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| If it decays spit it out, affectation is a drought
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| That you wait through when you hate everything that you do
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| You wanna live outside the groove, then fine
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| But it’s there like a flower blooming in your ears
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| Open up your mouth, pollinate your peers
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| Nothing reminds the mind of power like the cheap odor of plastic Leaking fumes
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| we crave, consume, the rush it feels fantastic
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| But like power turns to mold, like a junkie going cold
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| I need the fix of a little tenderness |