| With your head in a noose and a grape on a knife
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| Found you some breakfast or adventuring eye
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| You smell trouble, well, how should we get some sleep?
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| When the last of the whales dries dead below skies
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| Poems about poisonous berries and vines
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| Won’t have the fire of nature burning up your sheet
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| You know, I wanna stink so I feel alive
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| Unlearned perfection a number of times
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| Driftwood unrefurbished sounds more like paradise to me
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| Oh, the stones’ll start talking, bad weather’s a sign
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| Hunters and robbers that drip blood in full tide
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| The cornstalk told me, «Better run while the earth holds this heat»
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| We’ll come out in the night
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| Everybody we know
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| We’ll be laughing and singing
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| And there won’t be no fighting
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| We’ll come out in the night
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| Where all the lasers are firing
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| And our babies are gurgling
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| And our elders are wobbling
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| We’re not going underground
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| Are you going underground?
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| I’m not going underground
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| But the negative pressure is pushing me down
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| Are you going underground?
|
| I’m not going underground
|
| But we say get to it, just to make the sound
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| Are you going underground?
|
| I’m not going underground
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| We’re not going underground
|
| Are you going underground?
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| I’m not going underground now
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| Cobwebs! |
| Cobwebs!
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| They took my home, I’m in disoriented glee
|
| Cobwebs! |
| Cobwebs!
|
| They blocked the path that was connecting you and me
|
| Cobwebs! |
| Cobwebs!
|
| It’s a sticky case, the more I move the less I’m free
|
| Cobwebs! |
| Cobwebs!
|
| They took my home, I’m in disoriented glee
|
| They blocked the path that was connecting you and me
|
| It’s a sticky case the more I move the less I’m free
|
| Ever since I was a boy I found new ways to view my porridge
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| Sometimes electric, organic like strawberry meat |