| More than twice I’ve enjoyed the light of a wrapper
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| Rolled it up and blocked out the clatter
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| By braving up from the bows of the planet below (?)
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| I smoke the world’s problems in a cloak of illusion
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| And clarity comes from confusion
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| I don’t need much but the sound of a steel guitar
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| The sound of my own voice, the bell of a sad cyclone (?)
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| Once again I find my toenails need clipping
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| My tongue is numb, my nose has been dripping
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| I’ve been sniffin' for about a week now
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| My hair is lookin' duller and lengthy
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| It’s longer, I’ve never looked much like a gangster
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| But man, I don’t look like a gangster at all
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| There’s a sudden lack of excitement in my day
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| All my exhibition’s neighbors have moved away
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| I’ve smoked too much, I’ve smoked too much
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| And my mind is losing memories of your sweet touch
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| My lungs have never felt worse
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| That’s sort of a blessing in a curse
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| I’m looking through an empty verse and I see
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| The cleanness of my dreams all turn to dust.
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| Take the time of your life and times it by three
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| That’s what we get when we leave the city
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| You’re a pretty girl
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| But you look better in the country
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| We can sense each other’s thoughts all night
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| And stare into pupils under the moonlight
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| We won’t be apart until one of us is dead
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| But which one of us will that be?
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| There’s panic running through my head
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| I’ve smoked too much, I’ve smoked too much
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| And my mind is losing memories of your sweet touch
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| My lungs have never felt worse
|
| That’s sort of a blessing in a curse
|
| I’m looking through an empty verse and I see
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| The cleanness of my dreams all turn to dust |