There is something not right about the girl in the corner,
She sits braiding dolls hair, and rocking on her chair,
And telling me that she’s in love,
A collection of people,
Spew from one person,
Am I in the presence of greatness?
Are we in the throws of a life lived?
When does the questioning end?
Question the questions my friend,
Question the questions my friend…
Something is not right about the guy in the corner,
He stands shouting pieces, shrapnel of dark peace,
And telling me he’s not alone,
A collection of people,
Spew from one person,
Am I about to see some life lived?
Do we come through this as one mind?
When does the questioning end?
Question the questions my friend,
Question the questions my friend…
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