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Last hand |
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I shook, was a boat that floated on its back all day |
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In the middle of a song about trees that are scared of the dark |
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Wait until you're gone to steal some thoughts from offa the shelf |
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To trade for hats with holes that let the night shine through |
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Exchange our fears for little glass holes |
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And broken dreams of bent-backed trolls |
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Who'll tend the trees and what's in between |
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The sky above is aglow with evil love |
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The boat sank offshore in a birdbath dreamt by a broken wheel |
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Left by the side of the road right where night slipped and fell |
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And if I ever had, they couldn't tell, if we were, they didn't know |
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She might, but if he did, they can't, you must, |
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I won'tTurn our tears to little black holes |
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To light the way for three blind moles |
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Who'll tend the trees and what's in between |
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The sky above is aglow with evil love |