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I knew it musta been some big set-up. All the Action just would not let up. It's just a little bit back from the main road Where the silence spreads and the men dig holes. I start to spin the tale You complain of my diction You give me friction You give me friction You give me friction My eyes are like telescopes I see it all backwards: but who wants hope? If I ever catch that ventriloquist I'll squeeze his head right into my fist. Something comes tracking in, What is it? What's the prediction? I'll betcha it's friction

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