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They're knocking down that Art Deco house |
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The clawfoot tub is cracked and crushed |
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The mattress springs and the telephone wires |
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Gnash now through the air like crocodiles |
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Everything is coming up in 2 x 4's |
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Concrete walls and concrete floors |
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High rise homes, high rising rent |
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The atmosphere is closing in |
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There's no stars up above when you tilt your head |
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Though the night is blank and black as pitch |
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It is not what it seems |
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What it seems |
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The polymaths around the town |
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Yield and shift their weight around |
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On a new boy, a young wunderkind |
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He'll give us hope and cure the blind |
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It's you they've chosen, my favorite son |
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To heal the sick and cure the blind |
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Your path is paved, you look terrified |
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You are not what you seem |
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Oh what you seem |
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Oh, what I see when I'm dreaming |
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Oh, what I see when I'm dreaming |
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Oh, am I dreaming |
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Oh, am I dreaming |
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You're just sinews and bones, smiley faces and frowns |
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There's a series of numbers that dictate your wiles |
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Green at the wick, you are still a child |
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And you stumble when you walk |
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The guileless cavalry in their brass-buttoned coats |
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Can't they see no men of pith |
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Are going to come to lift them from the fuselage |
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So let's skip town, you and I |
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Far from where the hemlock lies |
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Through the beryline hills, like ezekial's wheels |
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Cradling the clouds that hold our view |
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Let's pass the cities and their neon lights |
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Their copper-tops and steely spires |
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Let's trade them for the simple life |
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For they're not what they seem |
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What they seem |
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Oh, what I see when I'm dreaming |
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When I'm dreaming |
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Oh, what I see when I'm dreaming |
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Oh, am I dreaming |
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Oh, am I dreaming |
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Our days back east are done in numbers |
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Our days back east are done and over |
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Our days back east are done and numbered |
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I'll test the weights and weigh the odds |
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You'll want for nothing even when we've got nothing |
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Nothing, nothing at all |