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Gravitated towards a taste
For foreign films and modern plays
But that machine could only
Bend to squares five to six times
Before your fingers came unwired...
Weights down so that you could move forwards
Pinch to snub that restless nerve
And knock the wind from one last urge
With two fingers a rock glass,
Time passed and that was that
Quite a slip (a loosened grasp)
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I saw the scene unfold on a rainy Sunday
Creases indicating fold that kept four walls from caving in
I took a little more of what I take for granted
And filled my plate for fear that gears would turn
And wheels would roll away
Something's got to break you down
Entered the scene (I'm told) on I think it was Monday
You drove straight through and mined that quarry
For all it could bleed 'til dry
I took a little more 'til I got taken for granted
'cause beautiful boys gave chase
and when they arch your backbone
it's such a dreadful sight
I'll react when faces find you
with jealous fits that gag and bind you
'cause nothing hurts like nothing at all
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I think I'm drunk enough to drive you home now
I'll keep my mouth kept shut from under lock and key
that's rusted firm, no lie
'cause all these conversations wind on and on...
drinking champagne from a paper cup
is never quite the same
and every sip's moving through my eyes
and up into my brain
at half past two; about time to leave
'cause the dj's playing rhythm and blues
a sad-sorry state, stutter step to those slammin' grooves
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it's a backwards attraction to your forward eyes
but you're so far-sighted that you can't place trust
in what or who you recognize
we sped the Plymouth cross the banks of the Mississippi river
Mary Timony was smaller then a super ball...
chitter-chatter all these secrets started giving me the shivers
plain and simply broken down near Olympia
I think your bruise was understanded,
'cause you can't feel this anymore
it's getting bluer and you can't keep faking
. . .
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I think you caught me on the downslide, downturn
I was busy writing with a pen and paper thin dream
and all your plastic people with plastic hearts and smiles
they had the worst intentions all along after all...
the royal castle holds the mellow drama kings and queens
and all their dazzling children; they're so regal (clean)
with pristine fingertips they wash behind their ears
and let their hair down 'til the audiences leave
I'm definitely shaking
the silence isn't breaking
backwashed and stranded memories
. . .
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I can't expel the truth
it's much more than I thought I could do
and with time my worth with stain
and split your heart from my name...
so drive away your mouth from my ears
and waste a day so I can think clearly
and what's left to wait for here
as my hands sleep spent this last year
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And I'm standing up in my practice room
I'm all alone
Speaker's almost blown
And my new Gibson amp
Oh what the hell....
Things are not so different in my vocal master
You are the face that launched one thousand shits
Greeks and trojans and a thousand shits
The shits eyeing the shores of asia minor
Lining all the shores of asia minor
You can tell that im not a minor in asia no more
I'm standing up
This is the face that launched a thousand shits
I'm standing up
This is the face that launched one thousand shits
This is the face that shot
Who never have replaced
Splitting up his kingdom into three seperate parts
For his sons and their three separate hearts
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and if it was just how you wanted
you'd be glued to his bones and his brainstem
and changing your image and attitudes
won't bring you back into your bedroom
amputating as he's waiting
he's unresponsive 'cause you're irresponsible
little swinger your bottle is thinking too much
'cause you're aiming to please way off target
and I'll tell you what you must already know
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bent at the knee, a last resort
backfired and made things worse
once on the bus, it was quite possible
you'd be the jailhouse queen
jury and judge were screaming to hang
you spat the sweat from brow
he shrugged his shoulders, nothing would work
it had to end right now...
I can't drive straight counting your fake frowns
focusing in; details a must
trying to make each one count
all on your fingers stopping at ten
magistrate's keyed in how
the jury and judge were screaming to hang
you spat the sweat from brow
he shrugged his shoulders; nothing would work
it had to end right now...
we can't keep your interest now
. . .
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there things take my time and energy
don't stand too close without apologies
cutthroat; cut out candid glimpses and
wind me up; I'm ready
can't escape this line of best fit
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