| I listen for secrets hidden in whispers… in the winter time
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| And catch them tickling my whiskers… colliding with wind chimes
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| The kind that send shivers… up and down tingling spines
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| Thinking time could stretch if…
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| we’d spin a design inside our web that would catch drifts
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| The type that blow out birthday candles before we make our death wish
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| I’m waiting for a message in my calling so I’m checking my voice mail,
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| and I’m answering machines with man-made dreams.
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| Man made bandaids to cover up the seams.
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| The cover-up seems to only work if the wound never opens up or bleeds.
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| Beads of sweat form above the eyes of a heathen Emperor
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| Who won’t get on his feet and step outside into the freezing temperature
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| He wants to adjust the global thermostat
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| But he’s so remote… and you can’t control the world like that
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| Come to find these eggs ain’t even golden.
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| I see depreciation in the family jewels the Queen is holding.
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| That broken marriage was fixed. |
| It happened when her feet were frozen.
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| She still remains to be the only one who’s seen the Emperor’s new clothing… |