Sparks flying and you’re talking the wildest game.
In your cube pen, at work then, no one knows your secret name
And we’re cleaning what’s not getting any less dirty.
The fire, once burning, is smothered and lean.
Now get out of that building.
You’ll see the strangest of things.
Age looming and your walking the widest path.
In your absence your last chance has walked on out your front door.
You’ll see the loveliest of things.
Now get out of your skin.
You’ll see the loveliest of things.
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