| Control-alt-delete you
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| Now press any key to continue
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| I’ve got parables:
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| the unattainables to you
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| The leash is to lead you…
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| The fish is to feed you
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| To hang you high by the knees
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| Hang you high from the trees…
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| The flash, the wings, the sun
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| I’ve got chicken wire
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| When I’ve got piano wire
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| I’ve got method
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| The unattainables to you
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| And you…
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| I see right through you
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| And you…
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| I see right through you
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| And you, you, you…
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| I’ve got fishes to feed you
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| You, you, you…
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| I’ve got fishes to feed you
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| (Feed you from the bucket, hang you from the trees
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| Feed you from the bucket, hang you from the trees
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| Feed you from the bucket, hang you from the trees
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| Feed you from the bucket) Hang you from the trees
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| Feed you from the bucket, hang you from the trees
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| Feed you from the bucket, hang you from the trees
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| Feed you from the bucket, hang you from the trees
|
| Feed you from the bucket, hang you from the trees
|
| Feed you from the bucket, hang you from the trees
|
| Feed you from the bucket, hang you from the trees
|
| Feed you from the bucket, hang you from the trees
|
| Feed you from the bucket, hang you from the trees
|
| Feed you from the bucket, hang you from the trees
|
| Feed you from the bucket, hang you from the trees
|
| Feed you from the bucket, hang you from the trees
|
| Feed you from the bucket, hang you from the trees
|
| Feed you from the bucket, hang you from the trees
|
| Feed you from the bucket, hang you from the trees
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| Feed you from the bucket, hang you from the trees
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| Feed you from the bucket, …the trees
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| Feed you from the bucket, hang you from the trees
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| Feed you from the bucket, hang you from the trees
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| Feed you from the bucket, hang you from the trees
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| Feed you from the bucket, hang you from the trees
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| Feed you from the bucket…
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| The sun… is uncontrollable… unforgiving. |
| With the sun, you can’t shape and
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| sculpt reality.
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| Have you left me your pliers for bent back desires to find a routine?
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| The simple repair, but it’s the «simple» that scares me and finds me the «weak»
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| And your oak tree reminders just remind me that something’s still wrong with
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| the leaves
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| I shield out the glare and get fit for my chair as I shake off my feet
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| Now the research can end… won’t be wrong again
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| Yeah, the research can end… won’t be wrong again
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| No, the research can end… won’t… |