Harold walks down any street of this town
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both crier and witness the sun drops clouds shift
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his legs twitch
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the clocks chime on cafes, pharmacies, and dime stores, in bar rooms he stils all alone erupting.
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in his head its like the weather
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back and forth its like the weather
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when it rains it pours down
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Weatherman, do you feel?
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Is it stormy inside of your veins?
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Harold Weathervein
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| Cursive |
