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Return to Cups |
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Moral Recipes |
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He’s walking the dogma of his choice |
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While ignoring a higher earnest voice |
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Locked and leashed to hand-me-down moral codes |
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Despite how his life currently explodes |
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Every thought and event must be justified to be |
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Living by the code, the two-faced veneer of morality |
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Temptation and truth all but danced at his feet |
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When her soul panders it looks pretty sweet |
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She flaunts a fine logic of having no reason |
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Very fast, sexy, hip and oh so next season |
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He thinks it will be better if he just turns and goes |
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He can justify it later, buried in the life that he knows |
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What could have been he’ll simply let slide |
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Explain it away as a midlife thrill ride |
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Yet she made a cool mess on his carpet that night |
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Too bad he kept himself closed the whole time |
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Obligations before him, you can’t blame the man |
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The hum of complacency is much less a demand |
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Some improvisations thrown in, but he’ll justify it all |
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In the moral cookbooks of life safe cakes never fall |
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So she searches for his energy on the ethereal plain |
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Marked her calendar for the next life until she holds him again |
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Because today in this life -- its devastating and true |
