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What the * is this world. Running to?. . You didn't leave a message. At least I could have. Heard your voice one last time. . Daily minefield. This could be my time. How 'bout you?. Would yo
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I see the world. Feel the chill. Which way to go. Windowsill. I see the words. On a rocking horse of time. I see the birds in the rain. . Oh dear dad. Can you see me now. I am myself. Like
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My life in the D is a tragicomedy, a poetic verse. Its voodoo, some say black magic ettouffe, a dead mans curse. Its just like the Egyptian tombs, tunnels leading to empty rooms. Skeptics think its
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(Benson/Falkner). . Met a girl, introduced myself. I asked her go to with me and no one else. And she said "I'd really like to see you everyday. But I'm afraid of what my friends might say. You
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She don't wander in, don't wander in here, she. She don't wander in here, don't wander in here. The direction of the eye, so misleading. The defection of the soul, nauseously quick. I don't questi
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Hey. Ooo. Sheets of empty canvas. Untouched sheets of clay. Were laid spread out before me. As her b
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Hey. Ooo. Sheets of empty canvas. Untouched sheets of clay. Were laid spread out before me. As her b
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Hold on to the thread. The currents will shift. Guide me towards you. Know something's left. And we're all allowed to dream. Of the next time we touch. . You don't have to stray. The oceans aw
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Freezin', rests his head on a pillow made of concrete, again. Oh, Feelin' maybe he'll see a little better, set a days, ooh yeah. Oh, hand out, face
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I admit it. What's to say. Yeah. I'll relive it. Without pain. Mmm. Backstreet lover on the side of the road. I got a bomb in my temple that is gonna explode. I got a sixteen gauge buried unde
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Maybe if I lay real still. It will go away, maybe it will. Maybe this time I won't budge. Maybe I just need a little nudge Maybe this time I won't flinch. Maybe this time it might be a sinch. May
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At home. Drawing pictures. Of mountain tops. With him on top. Lemon yellow sun. Arms raised in a V. Dead lay in pools of maroon below. . Dadd
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Hold on to the thread. The currents will shift. Guide me towards you. Know something's left. And we're all allowed to dream. Of the next time we touch. . You don't have to stray. The oceans aw
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You're poised and ready, unable to make a sound. Your hands are sweaty as you look down. You're running already when you've hit the ground You're willing and able, so nice to have around. The head
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On the edge of a windowsill. Ponders his maker, ponders his will. To the street below, he just ain't nothin'. But he's got a great view and he sinks the needle deep. Whoa, can't touch the bottom.
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What the * is this world. Running to?. . You didn't leave a message. At least I could have. Heard your voice one last time. . Daily minefield. This could be my time. How 'bout you?. Would yo
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There used to be nothing in common,. There used to be nothing to share;. It used to be sit by the window,. And stare at what used to be there. . It used to be lonely in numbers,. Impossibly weak
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