| Slide against the fan, the room is clear
|
| Suddenly we have a vacuum
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| In the mail a telegram, I could not wait, all aboard the caravan it leaves today
|
| And then the night comes on, the lights turn low
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| Fall asleep, all alone
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| Consider for a second the ways of the world
|
| Maybe I’ll throw myself a bone
|
| Maybe I’ll throw myself to the dogs
|
| But my back’s not to the wall
|
| Maybe I’ll lay some bricks for the man
|
| But the days just aren’t that long
|
| So if I settle back and chill
|
| Will I see far enough to feel the angel’s dream?
|
| I thought it was the story of the world
|
| Can I call out and say, everybody here
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| Lend me an ear to talk to
|
| Can I go out and scream, the ways of the world
|
| Without me singing another tune
|
| But the words are so familiar, I heard it before
|
| And you might dare to sing along
|
| With the crickets out chirping a random song
|
| Maybe I’ll throw myself a bone
|
| Maybe I’ll throw myself to the dogs
|
| But my back’s not to the wall
|
| Maybe I’ll lay some bricks for the man
|
| But the days just aren’t that long
|
| So if I settle back and chill
|
| Will I see far enough to feel the angel’s dream?
|
| I thought it was the story of the world
|
| When frick turns to frack, there’s no turning back
|
| And you got a slip tongue and a smack attack
|
| And there’s colors like green and you’re wearing black
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| And you fall down flat on a railroad tracks
|
| But then the sun comes up and the day moves on
|
| And the old routine takes its toll
|
| And you feel like a copier rolling along
|
| Maybe you’d throw yourself a bone
|
| Maybe you’d throw yourself to the dogs
|
| But you back’s not to the wall
|
| Maybe you’d lay some bricks for the man
|
| But the days just aren’t that long
|
| And if you settle back and chill
|
| Will you see far enough to feel the angel’s dream?
|
| I thought it was the story of the world
|
| I thought it was the story of the world
|
| I thought it was the story |