| You’re obsessed with finding a new brain
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| But what you need is a new body
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| It feels your brain has lived a thousand lives before
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| And the skin you call your home
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| Holds a heart that quits and knees that buckle in
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| And lungs that can’t breathe when they’re alone
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| And the days come to you like sailors
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| You watch them as they drift away
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| They meet the sunrise out at the horizon
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| And it’s neither sink nor swim
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| At least the water’s beneath your chin
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| There’s blood spilled on the floor
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| Everyone’s staring at you, what for?
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| Till you realize the blood is probably yours
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| You feel you’ve lost something, you want it back
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| You’re lyin' motionless on your back
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| And your legs aren’t takin' any more requests
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| Those disobedient wrecks
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| How you cared for them as they carried you
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| From class to class and coast to coast
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| When you owned land and when you were broke
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| Through recessions and addictions
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| It’s just your accidental death
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| Your accidental death
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| It’s just your accidental death
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| You’re the Indian in the cougar’s nest
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| Your fright gives way to memory
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| Having coffee with your love
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| Or the story your father told you long ago
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| He was hunting with his own father
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| For deer, he pointed and spotted her
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| And then tripped over some roots or some dead trees
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| The gun went off, it was a mistake
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| And my father was only eight
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| And as he watched the dyin' deer, he was changed
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| 'Cause he felt sorry for what he’d done
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| And then he put down his gun
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| Will you feel sorry for what you’ve done?
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| Will you put down your gun?
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| It’s just your accidental death
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| Your accidental death
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| But there’s no accidental death
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| When you’re the Indian in the cougar’s nest
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| It’s just your accidental death
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| Your accidental death
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| It’s just your accidental death
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| You’re the Indian in the cougar’s nest |