Ding-a-ling
Pale Forest
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Shadows in my head again
Too far from you bed, my friend
I stand on shaking shoes
And I’ll never be of much use
Counting toes beneath the table
The rain will flow when they are able
To fly this low to get me
And I’ll never be of much use
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Foghorns blowing from the bar
The sky reveals a lucky star
For everyone but I
And I’ll never be of much use