| What is this thing I see
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| This silly little thing called me
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| This skin, this hair, this flesh
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| This brain, this pain, this mess
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| What’s life?
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| A game that we just play with two plain dice?
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| When the shell dies, does the soul fly?
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| Hellfire, does the flame fry?
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| Is this the audition, brief intermission for something much grander
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| Get a bigger piece of pie, great show in the sky
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| Or is that just propaganda?
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| That they telling me, selling me sold with evidence
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| But intelligence, slowers development
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| We that think that we know we are not reverent
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| But we don’t even yet know if we’re relevant
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| One more pause, one more breath
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| One more pause, one more breath
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| Is this all that there is
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| If it is, I wish I could give
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| One more pause, one more breath
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| We could never know, if we’re ever next
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| Everytime I think I know, I stop and ask myself
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| What is this thing I see
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| This silly little thing called we
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| This brain, this pain, this flesh
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| These trains, these planes, what’s next?
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| Yes, we’re gonna beget technology
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| But the majority, escaping poverty
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| No, I don’t think that we can
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| Cause we still think that we got the plan and
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| By judging a man by just what’s in his hands
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| Or his land, or his tan and just cause we can
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| Pause, take a breath
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| Realise that none of us know what is next
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| See your code of address or the code of your dress
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| We all still use that same hole for our breath
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| Playing the game but there’s never a Ref
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| And you can’t take it with you if ever you left
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| What is this thing I see
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| Who could ever know, what we’re gonna be
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| Are we elevating our meditation
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| Not detonating through self-preservation
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| Generation television’s raising
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| Yet we’re complaining about how they’re behaving
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| Washing our hands or just bathing with satan
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| Yet with all that said, that’s just what you make it
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| Pause, take what is naturally given
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| Because actually there is no tax on our living
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| It’s a fact though it’s naturally hidden
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| Like I’m just an actual assassin on riddem
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| The adrenaline, we’re rememberin'
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| Our December is cold as it’s ever been
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| Fighting our best, but the victory we revel in
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| Fighting our brethren, how could we ever win? |