The Insulation

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    Begin to unwind
    That's a process that's riddled with fear of mankind
    The prospect of failings on par with divine
    There's a tip of an iceberg with wandering eyes
    And sights set on mounting
    A hole through your heart
    Or a shoe through the floor
    And my only request on your way out the door
    Is that you take a bow
    Take a bow
    Take a bow

    So i must confess
    With the whisper that pulls at the hairs on your neck
    I'm a clear cutting forest to fill with regret
    For rings left uncounted from trunks that i've split
    How could i ever begin to unwind?
    It's a process that's riddled with fear of mankind
    The prospect of failings on par with divine
    There's a tip of an iceberg with wandering eyes
    And sights set on mounting
    A hole through your heart
    Or a shoe through the floor
    And my only request on your way out the door
    Is that you take a bow
    Take a bow
    Take a bow
    Take a bow...

    There is a truth coming up the stairs from a tiny room
    The vibes aren't all that good so i avoid
    Going down there unless it's a complete necessity
    Which is usually only twice a year

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    There's a hole in the kitchen wall covered by a stopped clock
    The insulation could be better but i
    Like the fact that i'm sheltered from the elements
    By a broken countdown towards extinction

    There is a hole in the ceiling pointing to the north star
    Reassuring me i'll find my way home
    As long as there's no clouds or airplanes in the night sky
    My alignments cosmically exact

    Begin to unwind
    That's a process that's riddled with fear of mankind
    The prospect of failings on par with divine
    There's a tip of an iceberg with wandering eyes
    And sights set on mounting
    A hole through your heart
    Or a shoe through the floor
    And my only request on your way out the door
    Is that you take a bow
    Take a bow
    Take a bow

    Begin to unwind
    That's a process that's riddled with fear of mankind
    The prospect of failings on par with divine
    There's a tip of an iceberg with wandering eyes
    And sights set on mounting
    A hole through your heart
    Or a shoe through the floor
    And my only request on your way out the door
    Is that you take a bow

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