| Ever since I was a kid
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| On the backs of my two eyelids
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| I hid two Teleprompters there
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| Transmitting words from who knows where
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| Walkie-talkie on a mission
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| Roger, roger will I listen
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| Or will I just pass it along
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| In the form of a sing-a-long
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| Whammies and Noids be void and null
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| I feel a tingle in my skull
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| Like ticker tape the words appear
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| There’s a parade between my ears
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| I preach self-love I know it’s true
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| It’s easier to say than do
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| I send these messages to you
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| But now I need to hear them too
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| I am beautiful I am powerful I am strong and I am loveable
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| I am beautiful I am powerful I am strong and I am loveable
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| I was laying bricks in a line
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| Yap full of dog toy
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| Picturing a life beyond that of a protocol droid
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| Bleep bloop boy ox boycott pea soup
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| First learn to eat paint at St. Peter’s preschool-yum
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| Now that’s a painkiller I can speak through
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| Airbrush letters on a pristine gene pool
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| See my mother said her father drew a ton
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| But all his cartoons had been swallowed by the Susquehanna flood in '72
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| The year that he would subsequently pass
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| I know he had a stroke but I assume that’s only half
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| And now I’m signing up for finger-drawing class in a tux like a gentleman
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| Marrying his ash to his dust
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| Last on the kickball team draft pick-list
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| First to the King Kullen practicing his kickflips
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| I’d like to say it’s ‘cause I was a rebel
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| Truthfully it’s easier to say «oh hell» instead of «hello»
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| (Hi, you need to get out more)
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| I dunno, I don’t wanna be there when the geometry domino
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| (You need to get out more)
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| Maybe, or maybe his pace is better suited for pacing
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| (You need to get out more)
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| Never I am nailed to the floor-I am snail under pressure
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| (You need to get out more)
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| Fine
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| Ever since I was a kid
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| On the backs of my two eyelids
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| I hid two Teleprompters there
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| Transmitting words from who knows where
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| And this is why when I’m on stage
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| My eyes are closed I’m in a haze
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| I look like I’m made out of clay
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| I’m overwhelmed and under-glazed
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| I’m making vases out of snakes
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| I’m a kiln half-full of mistakes
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| When kneading it, air’s overlooked
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| It’s gonna crack when it gets cooked
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| So self-forgiveness is the key
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| To re-sculpting my sanity
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| Mindfulness, humility
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| And taking time to care for me
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| I preach self-love I know it’s true
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| It’s easier to say than do
|
| I sing these messages to you
|
| But now I need to hear them too
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| I am beautiful I am powerful I am strong and I am loveable
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| I am beautiful I am powerful I am strong and I am loveable
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| I was laying bricks in a line
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| Yap full of copper-top
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| Picturing a life beyond that of a dish-washer bot
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| Buzz ping
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| Criss-crossed arms in a tub ring
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| Learned heartbreak on a Zelda-1 sub screen-numb
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| Learned dark days by the scent of poached dove meat
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| Some part ways and it’s fugly
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| Maybe the sum of the parts became lesser
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| That each individually making the same gesture
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| And you don’t wanna interrupt the overlapping network
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| So you throw a bag together and elope with cabin pressure
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| To disappear instead of interfere with nutty customs
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| And differing definitions of liberty and justice
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| Big dummy dig a hole in the dirt
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| He put his head in the hole; |
| he is alone in this world
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| And dying slowly from the comfort of his home full of worms
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| Until you hear a little voice say «yo let’s go get dessert»
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| Wait-what?
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| You need to get out more
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| I dunno-over 2 million dead bats in NY alone
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| You need to get out more
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| Maybe, maybe not
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| Maybe I’ll just stay back and survey the lot
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| You need to get out more
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| Never I am nailed to the walls in a jail made of deserts
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| You need to get out more
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| OK |