| Lights flicker on the frame of a light sleeper… watching sports
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| In a stained wife beater and boxer shorts
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| Night creeps in-between the uneven slides of venetian blinds
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| And it sees signs of struggle
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| He resides in a jungle where the weeds dry and tumble
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| Every time he deserts love and leaves behind his troubles
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| This time it seems he’s finally humbled;
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| Defeated by the feline he’s been trying to subdue, beaten while they cuddle
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| Now subtle differences got him running from images
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| Weird as it is, circus mirrors are a serious fear of his
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| He stays a safe distance from the scary kid
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| His beard is big and he wears a wig in public appearances
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| Here he is… half alive in the flesh suit
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| Curious and appetized by the fresh fruit
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| Served on a dish at his nightly help group
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| Who dreamt of catching better Z’s? |
| Most people would’ve slept through it
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| If you ain’t been through it, then you don’t know the way the days
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| Just waste away. |
| A change of pace needs to take place
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| I play with razor blades and I shake
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| Until I shave my face and the break…
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| Of day lights flicker on the frame of a light sleeper… watching sports
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| In a stained wife beater and boxer shorts
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| Sun rays creep in-between the uneven slides of venetian blinds
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| And it sees signs of struggle
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| He hides a bundle of demons behind the stubble
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| Sleep dehydrates him 'til the dreams dry and crumble
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| Bleeding from his eyes, the scene of the crime’s a puddle
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| Where he cries Uncle… and doesn’t realize he’s lovable
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| Lover girl doesn’t purr because she sees
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| Something of hers stuck in a world that needs to be freed
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| This cat’s got tongues tied 'til she leaves
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| A curiosity that could kill an entire species
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| «See these fingers of mine?» |
| Yes
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| «It's time to see if one of them fits the dark ring around your eyes,» She says
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| So she sends me to a guy who signs permission slips
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| And if his finger fits…
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| He’s going to poke inside to see what’s alive
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| So I went to where she sent me only to find a blind man
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| With worn down fingertips
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| And his neck was a library full of razor bumbs
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| He placed a cup on a tabled labeled «Talk to Me»
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| And he snuck a smile passed the customs of his scruffy face
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| He just stared in my general direction and said… |