| The evil it spread like a fever ahead
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| It was night when you died, my firefly
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| What could I have said to raise you from the dead?
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| Oh could I be the sky on the Fourth of July?
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| Well you do enough talk
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| My little hawk, why do you cry?
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| Tell me what did you learn from the Tillamook burn?
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| Or the Fourth of July?
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| We’re all gonna die
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| Sitting at the bed with the halo at your head
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| Was it all a disguise, like Junior High
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| Where everything was fiction, future, and prediction
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| Now, where am I? |
| My fading supply
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| Did you get enough love, my little dove
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| Why do you cry?
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| And I’m sorry I left, but it was for the best
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| Though it never felt right
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| My little Versailles
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| The hospital asked should the body be cast
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| Before I say goodbye, my star in the sky
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| Such a funny thought to wrap you up in cloth
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| Do you find it all right, my dragonfly?
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| Shall we look at the moon, my little loon
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| Why do you cry?
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| Make the most of your life, while it is rife
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| While it is light
|
| Well you do enough talk
|
| My little hawk, why do you cry?
|
| Tell me what did you learn from the Tillamook burn?
|
| Or the Fourth of July?
|
| We’re all gonna die |