| Hi, my name is…
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| My interests are…
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| Hobbies…
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| Oh, sacred envelope of exploration…
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| Glistening ordinary, grant me
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| A winged mare or solid ground
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| And personality split
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| For it’s been a ghastly reflection. |
| unique
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| And reminiscent of nightmares I can’t escape
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| To disfigure a blurry glance at time of night
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| A glow the me I loathe, compose
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| And turn off to phase throughout has
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| «good friend who»
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| So many playmates that had loved
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| To hold my magnificent crum
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| And save its succulence from back injury
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| I’ve eroded the shared experience
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| Consistently… cradles fall
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| I’m think of a number from one to lonesome…
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| Fault fault everywhere
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| And not a single soulmate to spoon or go back and forth with…
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| I’ve torn them all to exorcists
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| Hi, my name’s in public…
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| Excuse my slant…
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| Has showed me how to spell
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| Welcome mat with a w-h-o-i-a-m & I
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| Take a stepping on purpose like a man
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| Who’s shrinking head
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| Is still a big effort, deal, and pursuit
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| Of… I've won, and all these women make me sick
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| So my spoils are shiners or regret
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| The stormy gray ribbon thus… therefore…and then
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| With a pin point poking my chest
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| I startle does and falsify confidence to change… to change…
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| Slowly but surely…
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| The lies I’ve told personify general sympathy
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| And his platoon of stupid things to do
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| My full name…
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| Let distance play the role of time and difference
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| Glad to be of service…
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| Risk averse is my favorite color
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| And limb to crawl on outfitted for perversion
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| Enduring… I've managed to overdress for dharma…
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| The tour of our spiraling universe
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| And suffer in a congested clammy-handed manner
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| So who’s the old shot blood-dripping man’s face
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| I’m slated to grimace as
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| Any suggestions…
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| Mr. id says don’t worry
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| Finish this now porridge before it cools
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| And remember above all your dyslexic
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| Sound advice… but still I’m hung up on hang-ups
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| And exhausted beyond the haven of endangered mystery-man
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| In the round strikes a pose
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| And tries to return truth from a bound world (for life)…
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| Reading into trivial and man’s endless pursuit of absolute stuff…
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| Custom-made to fit has simplified exception…
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| Accepted the war, the savior, the Saturday morning cartoons
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| This fish bowl
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| All convince an unconscious sense of perspective
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| That natural will thin my blood
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| And capture me and knock me up
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| And color coordinate love. |
| no more…
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| No desire, no bed time, no venue…
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| It’s the pattern my cycles adhere to…
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| These peaks and valleys I call home and stand for…
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| It’s hard, it’s natural
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| It’s only the beginning to fear death… embrace occurrence
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| Heal… to heal… to be the first one to heal
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| Is to wake and let artificial
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| The totem pole of rolls and norms is collapsed upon itself
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| Until we all care… no one will…
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| Until we all… no one will
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| Dose will… request…
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| Feel these pieces of me as I would all of you…
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| Until we meet… directions to my special place… come hither |