| My telephone, it doesn’t have a camera
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| If it did I’d take a picture of myself
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| If it did I’d take a picture of the water
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| And the man on the offramp
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| Holding up the sign that’s asking me for help
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| I got a job and I’ll work here for the summer
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| I fold the towels and set them by the pool
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| Everyone looks happy with each other
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| 'Til they step away and say the thing they really meant
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| They always sound so cruel
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| I didn’t know what I was in for
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| When I signed up for that run
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| There’s no way I’m curing cancer
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| But I’ll sweat it out
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| I feel so proud now for all the good I’ve done
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| I know a girl who owns a boutique in the city
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| Selling clothes to the fashionably late
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| Says she cries at the news but doesn’t really
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| 'Cause it’s too much fun, there’s too much time
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| And too much plastic money to be made
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| I didn’t know what I was in for
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| When they took my belt and strings
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| They told me I’d gone crazy
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| My arms are strapped in a straight jacket
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| So I couldn’t save those TV refugees
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| When they’re on their backs
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| In a bloody bath
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| Full of Sarin gas
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| On a screen
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| I didn’t know what I was in for
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| When I laid out in the sun
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| We get burned for being honest
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| I’ve really never done anything, for anyone
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| To fall asleep I need white noise to distract me
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| Otherwise I have to listen to me think
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| Otherwise I pace around, hold my breath, let it out
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| Sit on the couch and think about
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| How living’s just a promise that I made |