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I can hear my own stpes echoing in the woods -"Work is the essence of life!" |
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We can't accept that it will stay there, |
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With me rubbing my hands against my temple, |
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And the laughing at something funny beyond |
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To be oh so sarcastic doesn't work every hour, |
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Every hour of the year |
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You fall off when the seat has been taken |
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Like the rest of us, -"Be kind be real or get out of my sight" |
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It's hard to carry those facts, |
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Especially when they're either fiction |
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Or standardized moralities |
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Like 100 meters of hurdles |
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Have distance to the subject that matters, |
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Strangle common lies in case |
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I'm not reciting from an already existing tragedy |
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Catch me lying down, playing dead and buried |
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Or dig me up when |
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I'm really gone |
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It's favourable when it lies, |
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But it's not like your wrestling partner |
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You can't walk out and kick it down, |
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Like 100 meters of hurdles |
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You'll have to shuffle small talk to pin it down |
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I'm sarcastic and reply in that manner, |
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But I can't get to the point |
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Why should the underdog, even take his brushes out |
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When they already play duets from the western canon, |
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By Krishna and the west wind, there in something funny |
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Beyond, something funny beyond |