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The Death
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Showbread
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1
When I was a baby I could close the world
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Up in fleshy pink mitts
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Now the world flays the infant palms
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And the bones drip out in its spit
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When I was small I reached up so high
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And grasped at the morning star
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Now the wormwood topples down on me
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And smashes all my parts
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When I was a child my bones spread out
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Like peacock feathers alive
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Now the feathers wilt like cancerous boils
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Leaving sagging pores in my hide
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When I was of age I saw a gate so wide
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And a path so broad for the taking
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But the road to everything led to a cliff
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Where I sprawled out naked and aching
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Now that I'm old I see the light
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And I see it was never there
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Everything leads to nothing
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Nowhere and I don't even care
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I don't even care
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I don't even care
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I don't even care
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I don't
Showbread - Mouth Like A Magazine
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