dye your eyes the color of july 40 stripes an no one bats an eye empty room with nothing on the walls a telephone that no one seems to call heavy doses of what may be catching on to your sorcery changin' me lazy lover layin' in the grass hopin' that this loneliness will pass thunder fills the old ones with alarm fingers trace the thinness of the arm read my lips and tell me what to do all these songs and i don't have a clue loving you just never really paid gonna get back my old job at the arcade
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