Well, I can't win or lose
If you're playing or pretending
Either's
Steam pours from open sores
Fixed bayonets make room for your
Come peaceably
Arms wide
Or hands tied Who's
responsible for these things that
If everything's a game
Then that makes winning and losing about
Counting constellations while you're looking through
The microscopipocalypse
Whi
Things are pretty heavy
Out of this world
Where all those spins
Remember me in my better days
I'll remember you that way
I'm
If the end did begin
It's like starting over
And if the
I guess the folks that pulled the strings
Had their mind
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