| This is Thursday morning, bright light in my room
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| This is Thursday morning, silly sun too soon
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| Feeling dull and hollow, like an empty tin
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| Nothing I can follow, nowhere I could spin
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| Mirrors in the toilet show my face
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| On this very morning desperate case
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| I’m walking to the window
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| Look down to the street
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| A hundred thousand people following their feet
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| Moving in a big machine
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| Trying to protect their dream
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| Who can tell me what’s the meaning
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| Who can help me drop the ceiling
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| Wall to wall I’m walking, take a bottle off the shelf
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| To the floor I’m talking, to the floor and to myself
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| Watch it, what’s this day, two thousand days to stay
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| Oh I lost my meaning
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| Much to much too bad a feeling
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| Much much much too much to feel it
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| My head feels full of glue
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| Still by the window, touch my face
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| Touch my eyes, start to race
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| Oh oh that meaning
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| Much to much too bad a feeling
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| Much too much, alright |