| I’m a man on a train, I’ve had a terrible day
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| I stared and examined the marks on my hands
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| Before gently starting to rub them away
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| I’ve forgotten how or why
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| But someone must have put them there
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| Yet all the while I didn’t seem frightened or scared
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| Of their existence or that the rubbing was in vain
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| Look at me avoiding black holes
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| Black holes in broad daylight
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| I was just remembering my life all over again
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| It had to happen, my hands gave it away
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| Everything happens only once
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| Both a comfort and a curse
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| So I take the train downtown and be gone
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| Look at me avoiding black holes
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| Black holes in broad daylight
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| Look at me avoiding black holes
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| Black holes in broad daylight
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| And sometimes I fail to understand words
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| But an image does come to mind:
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| Everybody drops the ball at the same time
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| In broad daylight
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| Look at me avoiding black holes
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| Black holes in broad daylight |