Where the three streets meet, under bent street light
Talk of how far space extends
There is nothing else; we are not alone
On this dumping ground for misfits
It’s hide-and-seek week after week
A rotating cast playing all the parts the same
Huddled in the fall smoking cigarettes
Arguing how fast clouds travel
Continually placed in this little world
Until, one by one, it became too dull
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Lyrics submitted by Cab.
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