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i got high with an art teacher of mine |
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i learned how to paint portraits and landscapes with perspective |
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but i've been sitting here |
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the better part of eighteen years |
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blank stare blank canvas |
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i'm in need of a new view |
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of some new scenery to render |
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there's a boat leaving |
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where it goes, well i don't know |
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i've been buried alive |
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my history teacher by my side |
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lest i forget those mistakes that better men have made |
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the battles fought and lost |
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small victories at what cost? |
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the curriculum is dated, my inspiration fading |
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a slow setting sun |
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there's a boat leaving |
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where it goes, well i don't know |
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but if it floats i'm getting on |
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with or without you |
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the winds are strong enough |
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our native tongues will fail us |
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oh the pleasure i would take |
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in renaming everything |
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there are boats leaving |
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where they go, well i don't know |
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but it's a chance to see something new |
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will you come with me? |