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ten points if you know it. |
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if dreams are like movies, then memories are films about ghosts. you can never escape, you can only move south down the coast. i am an idiot walking a tightrope of fortune and fame. i am an acrobat swinging trapezes through circles of flame. if you've never stared of into the distance, then your life is a shame. and though i'll never forget your face, sometimes i can't remember my name. hey mrs potter, don't cry, hey mrs potter, i know why, and hey, mrs potter, won't you talk to me? the ghosts of the tilt a whirl will linger inside of your head, and the ferris wheel junkies will spin there forever instead. when i see you, a blanket of stars covers me in my bed. hey mrs potter, don't go, i said hey mrs potter, i don'tknow, but hey mrs potter, won't you talk to me? so i throw my hand into the air and it swims in the beam it's just a brief interruption of the swirling dust sparkle jet stream, well, i know i don't know you and you're probably not what you seem, oh but i'd sure like to find out, so why don't you climb down off that movie screen? hey mrs potter, don't turn, hey mrs potter, i burn for you, hey mrs potter won't you talk to me? when the last king of hollywood shatters his glass on the floor and orders another, well, i wonder what he did that for. that's when i know that i have to get out 'cause i have been there before so i gave up my seat at the bar and i head for the door. we drove out to the desert just to lie down beneath this bowl of stars. we stand up in the palace like it's the last of the great pioneer town bars. we shout out these songs against the clang of electric guitars and you can see a million miles tonight but you can't get very far. hey mrs potter, i won't touch, and hey mrs potter, it's not much, but hey mrs potter, won't you talk to me?
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