| I was built into the form of a man
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| By nothing if you believe that
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| That I’m not looking for nothing in nobody’s eyes is a lie
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| Long to be seen in my silence
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| After the years of shyness
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| That I’m not looking for nothing in nobody’s eyes is a lie
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| You keep your wants registered with committees in your mind
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| Each empty breath a record of what isn’t there
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| Will I be counted out among those from you taken
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| Slowly your scalp spits a cowlick for me
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| Over years spread out as a dull persistent feeling
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| As something you forgot, that might’ve never been
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| In the hole on the Alcatraz tour
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| You were scared to touch the walls
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| You were scared to touch the floor
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| Oh I want to touch your pulse
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| I want to touch your core
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| And I hide in your pores like a puss
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| No, I want more
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| Phone number like a misdealt hand in euchre
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| You’re all the way more beautiful than a photograph of you
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| Don’t dig out that mote again
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| Well I still need something
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| And it might be you
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| Don’t dig out that mote again
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| Don’t dig out
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| Don’t dig out that mote again
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| Don’t dig out
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| Don’t dig out that mote again
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| You can take this lonesome token
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| And toss it in the ocean
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| But hear me now weary in my tongue
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| Hold it in your hand
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| Hide it from the wind
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| Sleep with it like a secret
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| And its wages will root deep beneath it |