| On a morning in November you were blinded by the sun
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| In your place that makes you feel so safe from everyone
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| You’re totally oblivious to world poverty
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| Not affected by the millions that you don’t see
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| And so we toast to opportunity and talk about the weather
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| Although we never look each other in the eye
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| We are paranoid and out of step with every word that we just said
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| We all sound fucking crazy and no one can lie down in their own bed
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| In a moment you will tell us of your own personal hell
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| I’m starting to believe that everyone is for themselves
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| We really don’t have an eternity to make our dreams come true
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| But thinking for tomorrow isn’t in you
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| On my way down to the city I was looking out the window
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| At some point you learned to look the other way
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| We’re so desperate it’s dangerous, we basically have lost our heads
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| Responsible for nothing but taking credit where ever we can
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| And so we live under the garden where we can hide
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| And not smell the dregs of earth
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| Beneath the sun of the same planet, inherit wealth, inherit dirt
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| And so we live under the garden where we can hide
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| And not smell the dregs of earth
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| Beneath the sun of the same planet, inherit wealth, inherit dirt |