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Ever wonder why there's an end to it |
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Clockwise slipping down a clogged drain |
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In that period two dimensions out of three |
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Tried to fit it like a broken chain |
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The mirror can't explain to the crowd |
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Just how the con went down |
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Tonight's act is in a double-lined garbage bag |
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For your pleasure with a top hat and cane |
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In the quicksand it's on land and offshore |
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Ever wonder why people disappear |
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Sucked under by the day's tight undertow |
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A thick accumulation of boredom and fear |
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On a raft made out of rotten sticks |
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Caught on a sea of bad risks |
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Catch it soon |
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Is that the seventh wave |
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Don't dawdle over twice-tried failures |
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Have you ever seen how those wolves behave |
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Quicksand you're on land and you're offshore |
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Ever wonder why there's a house that sits |
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As empty as the day that someone finished building it |
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Birds on the highway |
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Rat on the porch |
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They're singing to the people who used to live next door |
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They don't answer that phone anymore |
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The quicksand is on land and offshore |