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Way back deep into the brain |
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Way back past the realm of pain |
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Back where there's never any rain |
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And the rain falls gently on the town |
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And over the heads of all of us |
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And in the labyrinth of streams |
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Beneath, quiet unearthly presence |
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Of nervous hill dwellers in the gentle hills around |
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Reptiles abounding |
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Fossils, caves, cool air heights |
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Each house repeats a mold |
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Windows rolled |
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A beast car locked in against morning |
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All now sleeping |
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Rugs silent, mirrors vacant |
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Dust blind under the beds of lawful couples |
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Wound in sheets and daughters, smug |
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With semen eyes in their nipples |