| The Industry’s out of touch
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| The means of production are now in the hands of the workers
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| But I still want to guided by your expert hands
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| Oh, lay your expert hands on me
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| And I, I would listen while you played me through my fears
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| And I, I would whisper just to make you come near
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| And I’d watch every gesture while you play the Kay mirrors
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| Oh I, I want your hands here
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| The new millennium’s tough
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| For some more than others--a ridiculous understatement
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| But I still want to be gazed on by your Ativan eyes
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| Oh, cast an eye upon me
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| 'Cause I’d sit and write to you about all this and nothing
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| And I, I would give it all to give up all but one thing
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| And I’m so sick of cynics and I want something to trust in
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| Oh I, I want your eyes here
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| I feel danger growing
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| A storm’s dropping branches in my path
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| Only danger where I’m going
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| Will you be a stranger when I get back?
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| We «strive to survive causing least suffering possible»
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| The Flux of Pink Indians gave me words for that!
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| And I still want your heart beating on mine
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| But, oh, have I been beating on your heart?
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| And I, I would listen while you played me through my fears
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| And I, I would whisper just to make you come near
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| And I’d watch every gesture while you play the Kay mirrors
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| Oh I, I want your hands here
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| 'Cause I’d drive and talk to you about all this and nothing
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| And I’d still give it all to give up all but just this one thing
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| And I’m so sick of cynics and I want something to trust in
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| Oh I, I want your eyes here
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| Ativan Eyes, Dear |