| People say we are sane
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| Lock your doors and play the games
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| Out in a constant search of fame
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| If we tell them of our dreams
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| Some but bright and subtle schemes
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| Others true and honest means
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| Oh you people out there
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| With your marshmallow wills
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| Your tragic days
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| And your tranquillizer pills can’t you see?
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| People got to be believed
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| Words have got to be perceived
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| Won’t you listen to us please?
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| Maybe to you it’s another day
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| Do you want to see the sun
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| Coming up in gray?
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| Tell me what the difference is
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| Between your life and pay
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| Does the fire of your optimism
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| Flare up in the dark?
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| Can you come to me with open arms
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| And strike the finite spark of love?
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| Could be a case of velleity
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| On your part my part
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| Or anyone who thinks they see
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| Through a decade an epoch
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| Or maybe even centuries
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| What do you think could be your reality?
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| Does your breath go away
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| For anything you plainly see?
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| Talking to God or going on the nod
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| Or freaking out a fancy free
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| Take your time in the morning sun
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| It lasts for half a day
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| Speak your mind to your only son
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| If that’s what you have to say to him
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| I know I’m living in utopia
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| With a strangely cloying
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| Absence of euphoria
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| And the rapidly increasing senses of dementia
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| The anticipation in my life
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| Now lends an ear
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| And I know I gotta choose
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| Gonna win or gonna lose
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| Ah maybe that’s the fear
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| I only hope that the choice of death
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| Will be mine to make and clear
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| Take your time in the morning sun
|
| It lasts for half a day
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| Speak your mind to your only son
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| If that’s what you have to say to him |