Up on the bluff, where I wish I was
|
Twistin' up the pages of history
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My cold feet danglin', my bony arms gesturin'
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To summon up little chunk of that history
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In the corridor the shadows are long
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And it messes with my equilibrium
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And there's strains of a strange language
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Up on the bluff, where the hardwood's jut
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Out toward the gusts of history
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My crusty mind cracks, my restless heart tracks
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The fractal lines of history
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In the corridor the shadows are long
|
And it messes with my equilibrium
|
And there's strains of a strange language
|
|
In the corridor the shadows are long
|
And it messes with my equilibrium
|
And there's strains of a strange language
|
|
Up on the bluff, where I wish I was
|
Twistin' up the pages of history
|
My cold feet danglin', my bony arms gesturin'
|
|
-----------------
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Strange Language
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Cowboy Junkies |