This world ain't a wasteland
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It just taste that way some times.
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It depends on the angle
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On how you read your lines.
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For every brick we stack to come together to build
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There's a sick little crack in this foundation still.
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Humans! I can't accept them.
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Trying to understand them
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And what fuels them and their essence.
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I'm looking for some leverage.
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Catch up, trying to catch me.
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Curse-ed, depress-ed.
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Here to make you happy.
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'Hey daddy tell me why the clown is crying.'
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'Well son he's got the task of cheering up the ill and dying.
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On top of that everybody thinks that he's insane.
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Can't fathom why he'd wanna ease their pain.'
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Walking through this maze made of concrete walls
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When you're not allowed to climb there's no way to possibly
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fall.
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When your hands are restricted to hold nothing but self
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How can you get a grip?
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How can you pick up what you're dealt?
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The clown stays sad.
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The ground stays hard.
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With a couple pounds of migraine, a pocket full of scars.
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But the face stays painted on for everyone to gaze upon
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continuing the bad dream till he wakes up gone.
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Chorus--two voices intertwined
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One for a walk, but always stood.
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Would you help him, if you could.
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One for a walk, but always stood.
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Would you help him, if you could.
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One for a walk, but always stood.
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Would you help him, if you could.
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One for a walk, but always stood.
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Would you help him, if you could.
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Do they see me?
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Do they know that I exist?
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I know they do.
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I can tell by the way they wave their fists.
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Weirdo. Freak.
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Words of endearment ring in my ears
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And cling onto my tears.
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My purpose on this earth was to brighten the sun ray
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At the circus or parade, house call on a birthday.
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A bag of balloons, I can build you a farm.
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Became worthless when they took away both of my arms.
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Snake charms.
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Magic tricks.
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The world is flat.
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And the traffic is thick.
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Got my back to the wind as I watch the inhabitants.
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Every thought I come across is bigger than this planet is.
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I used to be a normal person
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But I held a hunger to experience it firsthand.
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I wanted to turn every frown upside down.
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Some how my feet separated from the ground.
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And the clown stays sad the people stay lost.
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Nah, the people are sad, we lost the clown.
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But the face stays painted on for everyone to gaze upon
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And it will stay that way until the break of dawn.
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So throw your hands in the air!
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'Oh, I'm sorry you can't you're wearing a straight jacket.'
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-----------------
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Sad Clown
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Atmosphere |