| Luck locked?
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| Moon shot?
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| Ungod got?
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| Goner hope not
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| You’re in unlikely | |
| rock shock (not in chorus)
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| Now are you just in the aiming
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| This hopeful knight all right and reining
|
| Or is it falling that you’ve mastered solely
|
| Wholly only gaining debt or regret
|
| At the bread of a threat in a dead-end collect of your self in extents
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| To let off a small fearfire in the gone that sleeps inside you
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| All to sever an arm for a clear and embalmed calm moment
|
| In the palm of the sun outside the numb, inside your skin
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| To eat completely of the clear you’re in
|
| Luck locked?
|
| Moon shot?
|
| Ungod got?
|
| Goner hope not
|
| You’re in unlikely rock shock
|
| The fate of your life may go cold
|
| May be determined by how good you look in white
|
| And you will be there singing key
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| Yes you Yes in your cutting edge whites
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| You will show them you are just
|
| And the sight and sound of such
|
| Will turn to trust
|
| Will turn to trust
|
| You will show them you are just
|
| And the sight and sound of such
|
| Will turn to trust
|
| And is that dangerous
|
| It’s a 6ft tall man’s world, if you’re not knowing
|
| And the steady second hands of such
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| Are never not in motion
|
| From the size of the ceilings to the way the windows open
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| It is a dark rule of thumb, sunk deep into our numb
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| Writ in the stitch of our hand
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| At the center of a thing making modern man
|
| And its overdriven eat
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| They want it clean and numb when it hits the tongue
|
| How clean and numb when it hits the tongue?
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| Un-god got
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| Clean and numb and ungod got
|
| Amen, sing what you mean then
|
| What’s working man’s hope?
|
| They, they call it cope |