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May 2012
Thread through the needle head
She out the door without a word
I am so hungry I cannot stand up right
Someone's on to me
They've got a hold of my sight

One too many secrets in this place
One too many divinities here
I swear the hare stole my pocket watch
One of these days this madness
Has to got to cease and stop

Ideas place themselves on the shelves
Where all that's left is all there is
When I listen I try to keep my mouth shut
Like a worm in the ground
Or a squirrel holding on to sacred nut

The wind makes her promises
And the mountains continue to tell their lies
The guitar lays down weary
Where the saxophone wails loud n' free
This sound is starting to turn into a fury

I tell no lies unless the barrel is a gun
Your graveyard smile has got me on the run
And all my friends tell me to stay put
But I'd rather ramble with the sun on my boot
Just listen to yourself and
There'll be nothing left to be said

A crack of the bat and I'm back where I started
Laughs of uncertainty show faces all unsupported
I can't get too close to the sun or I'll burn
But there is something in myself that yearns
For a better life filled with this and a little bit of that
Where I ask myself, "Who am I when I wear this hat?"
Written by
Mitchell
606
 
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