| Stan’s been seeing phantoms and we’re not sure what to do
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| His screaming keeps the whole house up all night
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| Though we’ve never touched his closet and his problems are few
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| Something 'bout his disposition just isn’t right
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| The tender young boy with the life affirming needs
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| Waits in the garden
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| And everybody knows that he’s praying for Stan
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| All the total strangers on the mountain tops
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| Quarrel, babble, sometimes they dance
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| Clouds on the horizon tell of impending doom
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| You know they seem to be saying that we don’t stand a chance
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| Large chunks of evidence were tucked into my shirt
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| As the navy doctor fell asleep a dense fog surrounded us
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| Brilliant lights ignite in the sky
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| Everyone is beautiful if not somewhat unrecognizable
|
| Sometimes it’s as simple as the stakes on a wall
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| Sometimes it’s as hard as a renaissance lute
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| Stuffed animals into baby?
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| You know they’ll even laugh at the people we shoot
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| The tender young boy with the life affirming needs
|
| Still waits in the garden
|
| And everybody’s sure that he’s praying for Stan
|
| Even long lost poets like to regenerate
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| With new arms and legs they sort the mail
|
| Cast iron officers wander around
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| The president hopes that he’ll grow a tail
|
| Manifestations of? |
| ? |
| and
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| Float into the sky at night AIIIEEEE!
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| Oh damn it configurations play against the gawky savage
|
| ?? |
| mayhem? |
| into the streets of? |
| ? |