You may think I've been born lame but the truth is that I've been short changed
And out of a mouth of shame but am I the one to blame?
Over, and over, and over, and over, I've thought these things before
If only she'd held me tighter, I could have had much more
But I've got what's left and it's not quite right
Not a single word, not to speak nor write
Living as dead mans weight when the crown was to be mine but the dirt's where I'll die
I would if I could but I've broke my feet
I know it must be awfully stressful to be poised on purple seats, but it surely is no
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You may have stopped here but I have been mocked here, see
Every day's the same
There's not a shore, not a ship, not a single chance for a change
But I've got what's left and it's not quite right, not a single word not to speak nor write
Carrying dead man's weight pondering whether he or I have been wasting my time
And how is it that I've been bartered here?
You've tended to such gorgeous gardens as I've grown my weeds with tears
When you left us here in
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