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Rider

Will Oldham

High high all night now
My eyes bugged out and I'm down on the couch
Lady's got a box pressed into my face
And a belt of beads draped around her waist

I flex my neck and lose my sight
See the stars dropping out alright
Clouds and nebulae making noises
And constellations in erotic poises

Cold in space and fingers long
Between the ears a synapse is wrong
Clicked apart and's all it can be
The last the last you'll see of the leaves

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