| These leaves aren’t as loud as I’d prefer
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| This machine doesn’t love me enough
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| Tomorrow won’t see last year occur
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| And is the sun too bright?
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| This wheel is not sufficiently square
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| Is there nothing else to breathe than air?
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| This ground is much too hard to tear tonight
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| You can’t dance to this smell at all
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| This book just tastes like words
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| This house of cards will one day fall
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| And is the sea too wet?
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| These buzzing bees make too much honey
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| Why can’t this holocaust be funny?
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| Your love for me won’t earn you money, I bet
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| I’ll take the world on my own terms
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| I want disease but not the germs
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| I want the moon to cling to me So let your silence to sing to me An endless, endless symphony
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| 'Till all I lost instinctively returns
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| Your teardrops cannot change the wind
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| Your hands can’t see the waves
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| The things I say can I not rescind?
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| Is every word a vow?
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| Why won’t this house provide me rain?
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| Why can’t this deafness hear me complain?
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| And why wasn’t I told that love is pain till now?
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| I try to stave off your anger with feathers
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| And I try to sleep, but the days bleed together
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| With a needle and thread, I would hold back the weather
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| But the tide’s coming in And my courage was never brave enough
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| And my hunger never gave enough
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| And my abandonment never saved enough to start again
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| So I’ll make the world on my own terms
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| Give me disease but not the germs
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| I need your moon to cling to me So let your silence to sing to me An endless, endless symphony
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| Till all I lost instinctively returns
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| The leaves cover up all I’ve become
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| This machine has long broken down
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| Tomorrow is gone, today is numb
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| And the sun’s asleep
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| Your wheels have carved a street so wide
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| And you’ve missed the point, but still denied
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| In hopes somehow that all your pride you’d keep |