| My mind is like an orchard
|
| Clustered in frozen portraits
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| Of blossoms that bloomed so fine
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| Just to drop from the vine
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| I’ve seen 'em all tonight
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| Could keep it silent and tortured
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| Or shove it unto the floorboards
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| A rusty heart starts to whine
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| In its tell tale time
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| So free it up tonight
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| Life deals a measly portion
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| Light on good friends and fortune
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| It’s chipped you away inside
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| And drawn all your blinds
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| Concealed it all from sight
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| Could cut that final corner
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| Charge the void no quarter
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| Or skip to the final line of some
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| Suicide note well publicized
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| Or give it up tonight
|
| Kindly reverse the order
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| Of the options you’ve laid before you
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| The needle, the dirty spoon
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| The flames and the fumes
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| Just throw them out tonight
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| The time that you’ve been afforded
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| May go unsung unrewarded
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| Some nameless you cannot know
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| May be coming to show you
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| Unbridled love and light
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| Should you grow in an orchard
|
| Covered in dusty portraits
|
| Of blossoms that bloomed so fine
|
| Just to drop from the vine
|
| Oh, listen up tonight
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| Don’t keep it silent and tortured
|
| Or shove it unto the floorboards
|
| Your busted heart will be fine
|
| In its tell tale time
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| So give it up tonight |