| I am not in Kansas
|
| I can’t slow down and I can’t stand it
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| Broadcast News into Hallelujah
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| Hanne Darboven had a great idea
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| Make a list, write it down
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| Shave your head, draw a crown
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| Move back home with mom and dad
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| The pool is drained and they’re not there
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| My bedroom is a stranger’s gun room
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| Ohio’s in a downward spiral
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| I can’t go back there anymore
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| Since alt-right opium went viral
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| I am not in Kansas
|
| Where I am, I don’t know where
|
| Take me for a walk and blame this on the water dripping off the spear
|
| You even get to wear a dress
|
| And feed his flesh to wayward daughters
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| Everyone is so impressed
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| Teachers, neighbors, and mothers, fathers
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| First Testament was really great
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| The sequel was incredible
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| Like the Godfathers or the first two Strokes
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| Every document’s indelible
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| Infidels and Heartbreak Beats
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| Smidges of bad ecstasy
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| I must have left it in my pocket
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| With my Christianity in my rocket
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| I’m binging hard on Annette Bening
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| I’m listening to R.E.M. |
| again
|
| Begin The Begin, over and over
|
| Begin The Begin, over and over
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| I am not in Kansas
|
| Where I am, I don’t know where
|
| Take me for a walk and blame this on the water dripping off the spear
|
| If the sadness of life makes you tired
|
| And the failures of man make you sigh
|
| You can look to the time soon arriving
|
| When this noble experiment
|
| Winds down and calls it a day
|
| My shadow’s getting shorter
|
| I’m a child at the border
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| Oh Godmother, you can’t ignore us
|
| There isn’t anybody else left to love us
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| I wanted you when I was a child
|
| I raked the leaves and I started fires
|
| Now I’m reading whatever you give me
|
| It’s half your fault so half forgive me
|
| I’m way behind in reflex math
|
| Biphasic sleepless emotional crashes
|
| Two days into one, shove 'em together
|
| I always wake up way before the weather
|
| My mother needs an army
|
| But I’m leaving home and I’m scared that I won’t
|
| Have the balls to punch a Nazi
|
| Father, what is wrong with me?
|
| I am not in Kansas
|
| Where I am, I don’t know where
|
| Take me for a walk and blame this on the water dripping off the spear
|
| Oil droppers, rubber gloves
|
| I raked the leaves, I lit 'em up
|
| I read whatever it is you give me
|
| It’s half your fault so half forgive me
|
| At the real Neil Armstrong taught me
|
| To play cutthroat at my Aunt Angela’s house
|
| While my real dad’s skate got caught in the ice
|
| And he drove us home with a spiral fracture
|
| It was then I was enlightened
|
| Roberta Flack the whole way home
|
| I was entirely unfrightened
|
| Dozing off and eternally un-alone
|
| The flowers cover over everything
|
| They cover over everything
|
| The flowers cover over everything
|
| I am not in Kansas
|
| Where I am, I don’t know where
|
| Take me for a walk and blame this on the water dripping off the spear
|
| Time has come now to stop being human
|
| Time to find a new creature to be
|
| Be a fish or a weed or a sparrow
|
| For the Earth has grown tired and all of your time has expired
|
| All the gardens are sprouting with flowers
|
| All the treetops are bursting with birds
|
| And the people all know that it’s over
|
| They lay down their airs and they hang up their tiresome words |