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Havenât found the time to feed us
Curled and weeping audibly â ooh, what a scene
Folds its spine and lie between us
Sprawled upon the lawn for all to see
Do the warnings give you shivers
Are your mornings grim and grey â ooh, weâre the same
Weâll sit in air-conditioned theaters
Wile away the hours until we change
Maybe in time
Something will soothe your trouble in mind
Riot in your pores
Till you donât mind
The itch in your feet
The sounds at night
The devil at your door
Swinging cats in pillowcases
Smacking hats off peopleâs heads â ooh things were said
That singed the eyebrows from their faces
Planted seeds of worry in their beds
Maybe in time
Something will soothe your trouble in mind
Fire in your bones
Baby, youâre big with the news when i get home
Youâre marking where it starts, and where it ends
And watching how the look of love, it burns, and bends
And how the sidewalk doesnât end,
It just turns into road