| Styrofoam cup of mud in my good hand
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| Disembodied voice of God in the trash can
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| Eyes in the ashes, feeling for the future
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| Sleeping through the stakeout, researching the rumor
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| A mile, a motor, a mattress, a memory
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| At first, you were embarrassed
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| But how could you not be?
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| Tangled and teenaged, mom at the movies
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| Your voice ran out out of words
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| It was awkward and holy
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| The gospel in your belly, the ache a little lower
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| «Back into the breach,» you spoke as its owner
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| A syndicated sermon you sang from the rafters
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| Anchors in your pockets, holding down the laughter
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| Tearing up your mind, your lust and your ego
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| A slingshot reminder to speed your libido
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| The parish goes to jelly, blissful and wasted
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| Your Vishnu eye slips open and pictures them naked
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| In complicating your worst mixed message
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| You built then burnt a bridge
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| And scattered all your crumbs at the cliff
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| «If she wants me, she’ll swim for it.»
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| Brother, can you spare your alms or your arrows?
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| The thunderclaps are rising, I think that I should go home
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| To the basement back on Jumel Street
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| 1996 and you’re waiting there to tell me
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| «I didn’t die, you dreamt it, you dreamt it
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| I’m as alive as your best good intentions
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| I’m sorry that I tricked you, you had to focus
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| Put yourself together and clear out the garbage.»
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| But for all that effort
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| That slow-burn struggle
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| You forgot where you lived
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| She swept away the clues from the cliff, you’re lost now
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| She swept away the clues from the cliff, you’re lost now
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| She swept away the clues from the cliff, you’re lost now
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| Remember it
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| She swept away the clues from the cliff, you’re lost now
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| Remember it |