| Woken by a whale song, by a siren blast
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| All those deep sea divers of Brooklyn, the phantom buses swimming past
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| When the morning is rolled out onto the set
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| I see two crows sharin' a cigarette
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| While you’re waitin' by the catering truck parked outside of yesterday’s news
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| For the starlet, for the stuntman, for some sign of a camera crew
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| Then I swear I overhear somebody say, «well the sky in here looks so blue today.
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| I could drop all my lines, I could throw my ropes into the water
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| I could change my mind now today looks the same as tomorrow
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| If I could kill only the time that truly deserves to die, then so will I
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| I see jet streams, trails of small-talk, phosphorescence on an ocean of air
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| And I move slowly along the bottom, past old folks in their folding chairs
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| Then Yolanda asks if I got any change
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| Well that’s exactly what he, what she said yesterday
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| And I gave her all I had in my pockets just 'cause she’s a real swell guy
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| And she never ever breaks character, crashes my scenes or steals my lines
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| And I swear if her pretty red toenails could speak
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| They’d say, «there's no one else worth pretending to be…»
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| I could drop all my lines, I could throw my ropes into the water
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| Oh, I could change my mind when today looks the same tomorrow
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| Oh, I could kill all of the time that truly deserves to die
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| If I could kill only the time that truly deserves to die
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| Oh, when I’ve killed only the time that truly deserves to die, then so will I |