| You know what’s wrong with me You know phrenology
|
| You saw my injury
|
| You can tell just by looking at my skull
|
| Contrecoup, on the rebound
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| Contrecoup hurt me again
|
| And the second was worse by far than the first
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| 'Cause it made me limerent
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| When my head was hit
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| I bounced away from it Or as someone who is craniosophic would say,
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| The brain went the opposite way
|
| Contrecoup, on the rebound
|
| Contrecoup hurt me again
|
| And the second was worse by far than the first
|
| 'Cause the first one woke my feelings for you
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| But the contrecoup made my words untrue
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| And it left me limerent
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| Which is to say, how it goes
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| Couched in terms no one knows
|
| And as if the choice were slim
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| As if there’s no synonym
|
| You know what’s wrong with me You know phrenology
|
| You saw my injury
|
| You can tell just by looking at my skull
|
| Contrecoup, on the rebound
|
| Contrecoup hurt me again
|
| And the second was worse by far than the first
|
| Though the impulse is strong, the connection is weak
|
| And I know what to say, but forgot how to speak
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| When it made me limerent |