| Possessions never meant anything to me
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| I’m not crazy
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| Well that’s not true, I’ve got a bed, and a guitar
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| And a dog named Bob who pisses on my floor
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| That’s right, I’ve got a floor
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| So what, so what, so what?
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| I’ve got pockets full of kleenex and lint and holes
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| Where everything important to me
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| Just seems to fall right down my leg
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| And on to the floor
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| My closest friend linoleum
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| Linoleum
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| Supports my head, gives me something to believe
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| That’s me on the beachside combing the sand
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| Metal meter in my hand
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| Sporting a pocket full of change
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| That’s me on the street with a violin under my chin
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| Playing with a grin, singing gibberish
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| That’s me on the back of the bus
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| That’s me in the cell
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| That’s me inside your head
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| That’s me inside your head
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| That’s me inside your head |