| Dennis Rod-, Dennis Rod-, Dennis Rod-, Dennis Rod-
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| Dennis Rod-, Dennis Rod-, Dennis Rod-, Dennis Rod-
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| I’m thinking about God
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| Is it a he or a she or a feeling or love?
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| Does she personally ordain every occurrence and every moment
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| Or did she set the universe in motion and then move on?
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| To try to top her achievement?
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| Maybe this universe wasn’t an achievement at all
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| Maybe our lives, our wars, our fuckups, our diseases
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| Our love, our humanity, our passion, our pennies, our Holocaust
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| Are all just a rehearsal before the show
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| A sketch before the mural, a stretch before the jump
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| Does she love me? |
| Does God know I’m here?
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| I’m thinking about God, I’m thinking about sex
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| I’ve been holy all day and acted in ways that deserve adjectives like «honorable,» «good,» and «straight»
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| But it’s after 10PM now and I’m bored
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| I watched a movie on the internet alone and now it’s over
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| I pick up my phone and text every female I know within a 15 mile radius
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| It’s a terrible thing that deserves adjectives like «chauvinistic,» «objectifying,» and «asshole-ish» (Dennis Rodman)
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| I made that up just for myself
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| «Hey, Nicole»
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| «Oh, hey, what’s up Mike? |
| I’m about to get in bed, you?»
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| «Well, I’m chilling, I’ve just been thinking about you ;)»
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| «Haha, really random, I haven’t seen you in so long. |
| What made you think about
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| me?»
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| «Well, to be honest, I’m bored, and I’m thinking about sex»
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| I’m thinking about horses, they’re so goddamn regal
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| Their muscles ripple through their skin like waves in a little ocean
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| Magnificent beasts
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| But why the fuck do they listen to us?
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| They’re so much stronger than they know
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| But they trade their freedom for a dependable meal
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| They let people get on top of them and tell them where to go
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| But how can I judge?
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| Is that not exactly what I do?
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| Is that not exactly what we all do?
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| I’m thinking about horses
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| I’m thinking about dad
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| He’s 70 and he’s just starting to get old
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| Things are gonna change soon
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| I don’t feel ready for the change that’s coming soon
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| I am standing on the beach watching the tsunami grow
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| From a minuscule rise in the horizon to a monstrous tidal wave
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| I am not moving, I am not scared
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| I am not scared, I am not wearing swimwear
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| I am standing on the beach waiting for the tsunami
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| And dad taught me about love and sacrifice
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| But that’s sort of like a book that you read and forgot about
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| 'Cause I don’t love and I don’t sacrifice
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| And youth was my excuse for that, but that excuse is getting old
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| Maybe I’m gay
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| I’m thinking about dad
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| I’m thinking about death
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| What if this plane goes down?
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| That would be okay, you know, I had a good run
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| I wonder if a lot of people would come to my funeral
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| Maybe my fans would do something special
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| Maybe they’d cry and maybe it’d be in the newspaper
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| Yeah, I think I’d get in the Detroit News
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| Probably not the New York Times
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| People’ll probably like my music more when I die
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| 'Cause they’ll know no more is coming
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| You see, people love stories with endings
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| Right now, I’m just a story that’s sort of dragging on slowly
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| Page by page, year by year
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| But people want an ending, they want a crash
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| They want a ear in the fucking mail
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| I don’t have one
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| All I have is another lousy poem
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| And the knowledge that I’ll probably die somewhere confused and decrepit in a
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| nursing home
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| I don’t think this plane’s gonna crash
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| I’m thinking about Otis, I’m thinking about Kurt
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| I’m thinking about Dilla, I’m thinking about
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| Changed my hair green, and all of a sudden
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| People looked at me like I was the devil
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| Here we go
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| Green |