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All the Impossible |
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I drift my doppelganger to her side |
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Drifting seamlessly on off into her
case |
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All the impossiblee |
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I turn invisible and stretch myself
across the city through her door |
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Through the
entourage of swans and red herring |
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All the impossible |
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I see her shifting
in her sleep as I come swoop down low |
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The dreams come
bubbling from her head creating figure eights of gold |
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The door swings
open, time to sober up, her husband’s home, I think I hear her baby
crying |
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Gonna have to pave
my own way, back to sleep |
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All the Impossible |
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Copyright
2004 Jay Wasco
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