The backroom card game under smoky mobiles
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The lift attendent who's been riding for miles
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Safari season is upon us once more
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The lion's share to the man by the door
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She twists her body like a broken bird
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And staggers to the lift without a single word
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Her taking leave of the spinning room
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Leaves rain unwatched under eyeing moon
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In third floor peace dwelling on he fate
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She dents the side of the bed with her sparrow weight
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She twists her body like a broken bird
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And cranes her neck down slowly to the water
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As luck would have it she desired that man
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So she threw away hearts to weaken her hand
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The winner in a grey suit fills the frame
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Unaware that she's still playing her game
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She twists her body like a broken bird
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As waves roll up the shore and break softly
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-----------------
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Broken bird
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Salad |