POINT ME TO THE WEST
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I¡¯m bitter and twisted
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Unaddressed and unlisted
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And all of our plans came to nothing, it seems.
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There¡¯s nothing above
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Except lies about love
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Crooked skies west
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And impossible dreams.
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And the young and the hatefully
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Spoiled and ungrateful
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Born to inherit this beauty we made,
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Who owe us a debt
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That they¡¯ll never know debt
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And the dirt and disease
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Of the rotten old days.
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So tear out my name from the books of the law
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I don¡¯t want a part of the past anymore
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And scrub out every line in my biography
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And don¡¯t let me influence no one.
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I¡¯m jelous and broken
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For the trophies and the tokens
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And the aching little photos
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On other peoples walls.
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No desire could be finer
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And no man should be a miner
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But I could spit a hole in diamond
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When the clocking-out bell tolls.
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How we danced, you and I,
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Beneath the cut glass sky
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With our hands waving mimicing
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How other hands were free
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Life¡¯s a beach that you build,
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A sandpit we filled
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With the old cold sweat
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Of our slavery.
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So tear out my name from the books of the law
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I don¡¯t want a part of the past anymore
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And burn every record in my discography
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And don¡¯t let me influence no one.
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Pack up my books in the old oak chest
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Saddle me a horse and point me to the west
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Fill up my hip flask, load up my gun
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And point me to the setting sun.
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Point Me To The West
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The Indelicates |