| Dont feel like home, hes a little out
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| And all these words elope, its nothing like your poem
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| Putting in, in putting in, dont feel like methadone
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| A scratching voice, all alone, its nothing like your baritone
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| Its nothing as it seems, the little that he needs, its home
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| The little that he sees is nothing, he concedes, its home
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| One uninvited chromosome, a blanket like the ozone
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| Its nothing as it seems, all that he needs, its home
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| The little that he frees, is nothing, he believes
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| Saving up a sunny day, something maybe two-tone
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| Anything to call his own, a chip off the cornerstone
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| Whos kidding, rainy day, a one-way ticket headstone
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| Occupations overthrown, a whisper through a megaphone
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| Its nothing as it seems, the little that he needs, its home
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| The little that he sees is nothing, he concedes, its home
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| And all that he frees, a little bittersweet, its home
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| Its nothing as it seems, the little that you see, its home |