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Oh self-ignition I can feel her suitcase sensing much It was the wrong permission Miss nineteen ninety ninety ninety nine nine nine nine Charles James Sofa and a household truce And her every Wednesday night you can count her grooves I woke up in a house I could understand The descendants of defendants were making demands Generally thinking backwards On the psychedelic promises God make to me in the dark Some of these kids don't have words They're as helpless as parakeets in a park Couldn't believe it when I saw that you wrote That a burning passenger shouldn't moo in a boat If dreams are your body telling you its confused Then I've got a dream I think you could use All lakes encryption in the lawless rooms Where you finally lost your health I read the evening edition and the pumpkin on the porch is trying to heal itself I don't like magic and I don't like tricks Havin' a hell of a time believin' we exist The mail man dreams he's Paul Revere He wants the whole town to buy him a beer And I have to remember that your not wanting me Doesn't make me any less here From Letras Mania