| I just watched «When Nietzsche Wept»
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| Its been 3 nights, since I have slept
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| I just watched a physician turned psychoanalyst
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| Grappling with infidelity
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| I watched a teacher of philosophy
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| Tortured by memories
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| From the beginning to the end
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| I watched, «When Nietzsche Wept»
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| Saw I got call on Friday that my brother went
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| To the emergency room, he’d been rocked by nausea
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| He was dehydrated and colorless from anemia
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| And they laid him on his stomach to test the level of his pain
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| And on a level from 1 to 10
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| It came back 10
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| And they filled him up with morphine
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| But it had no effect on him
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| So they pumped him up with instead
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| And they sent him home to his quiet humble home
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| In the middle of nowhere, some rainy Ohio road
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| I’m told that his basement is cluttery
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| And his weeds are overgrown
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| They sent him back to his quiet Ohio home
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| On Saturday night I called him
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| Though I was told not to, for he needed rest
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| But I called him anyhow
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| Because I’ve been so anxious and restless
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| I offered him a visit but I could sense from his listlessness
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| His spiritless tone
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| For now, he preferred to be left alone
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| Over the weekend I read «The Smile at the Foot of the Ladder»
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| To comfort me through this stressful family matter
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| Every 5 pages I had to leave my bedroom
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| To relieve my bladder
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| Thinking there’s so much about being younger
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| That I took for granted
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| It’s only about 50 pages and I read about 15 tonight
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| The clown Auguste is 40 years old, if I’m right
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| I remember when I was just about to turn 40
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| I was at a bar in Tampa when a girl approached me
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| She said how old are you
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| I said, «I'm pretty old southern belle.»
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| She said, «Come on just tell me, I don’t mind, just tell me.»
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| «I won’t mind.»
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| I whimpered, «I'm 39.»
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| She stepped back and said, «Ah you’re not old. |
| yet.»
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| And she walked off and she was exactly right
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| I wasn’t old. |
| yet
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| I’m checking in every few hours with Ohio
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| But not directly with my brother he’s too tired
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| With his night at the hospital
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| It worries me that they pumped him up «Drugstore Cowboy» style
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| I hope they didn’t send him off with a whole bottle
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| Well, my brother, my love for you is at 11
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| It cannot be described in words
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| My love for you is ineffable
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| I’m sitting here in a menagerie of guitars and cables and microphones
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| Thinking «Am I a shitty brother?» |
| for not flying
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| But I respect your wishes to be left alone
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| I don’t know what it means to feel the ache in your bones
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| But I wait for you to call while I listen to this nylon-string guitar drone
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| Again, last night, I watched «When Nietzsche Wept»
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| Another sleepless night, worrying and fretting
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| But in the end, Dr. Breur said «my dear friend»
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| Nietzsche humbly said «We are friends, I like saying that. |
| No one ever said
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| this to me, we are friends.»
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| And he wept and he wept like never before
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| «But we are 2 ships,» he said. |
| «Each of which has its own goal and its course,»
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| Then they parted ways and Nietzsche walked out the door
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| This morning I reread «The Smile at the Foot of the Ladder»
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| I wanted to read it again
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| In a state of mind that was slightly less distracted
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| The other clown Antoine, falls sick and cannot take the stage
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| He was a mediocre clown, who barely got laughs anyway
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| And then the retired Auguste steps in to take his place
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| And Antoine dies from a broken heart
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| From his tent he hears
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| Auguste receive thunderous applause, laughter, and cheers
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| And Auguste goes off into the streets
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| And finds everlasting peace
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| And when he discovered that to be yourself, just yourself
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| Is a great thing
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| And a cop beats him to death with a baseball bat
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| So much for Auguste’s South American plan
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| And some witnesses come and flip Auguste on his back
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| And with a broad and terrific smile, he passed
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| His eyes open and gazing at the silver moon
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| And I closed the book and I called my brother
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| And said, «I love you.»
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| I called my brother today to say I love you
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| He said, «They found a large kidney stone and next Tuesday they’re going to
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| have it removed,»
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| No need for laser treatments and I don’t have to pass it through
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| I said «Are you sure you don’t want me to visit and help out somehow?»
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| He said, «Please don’t take this wrong but please, not this soon.»
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| He said, «You keep working brother, I love your music and I love you,»
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| I said, «Okay, but now before I go to the fishing pier today and take some
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| photos of seagulls for you,»
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| My brother loves seagulls
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| My brother loves to watch seagulls
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| Especially when they’re flying away
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| He loves my photos of seagulls, hovering of the San Francisco bay
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| My brother loves seagulls
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| My brother loves seagulls
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| Especially when they’re flying away
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| My brother loves to watch seagulls
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| Especially when they’re flying away
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| My brother loves seagulls
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| Especially when they’re flying away
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| My brother loves to watch seagulls
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| Especially when they’re flying away
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| My brother loves seagulls |