| I’m digging myself, a small hole, will call it home
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| We’ll get a dark purple carpet so I will never fall, will never sink inside
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| this hole
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| And make it be a part of me, a part of you, a part of us…
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| So join me in my home
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| I’m digging a tunnel to another world
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| To when civilizations were controlled by big gray animals
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| Survival is the key for life, the hunter — Allah on his side
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| And no one really knows his right from wrong
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| So what changed? |
| Still feels like home!
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| Running from the horror of civil depression
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| From the time before the time
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| Claiming the remains of a glorious presence
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| A chapter that slowly dies
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| Birthmark represents an unspeakable rage
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| Can you see, my forehead burning?
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| Pretentious fairies counting heads
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| Mortal Inventory, roots to collect
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| But there is no other place…
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| I will be digging you a small hole, to call home
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| So you will always feel welcome, all on your own
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| But when you need a break from it all
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| Pack a few bones to accompany the road
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| And remember that there is no place to come back to
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| There was never a home |