Been gone a long time. I kinda' lost my way, can't find it.
And I caught a short ride, to the grave and back this season.
I can try to get by, but every time I start to panic.
I'm a little bit shy, a bit strange and a little bit manic.
I went to a wishing well, that sank to the ocean floor,
Cut up by sharpened rocks, and washed up along the shore.
I reached for a shooting star, it burnt a hole through my hand.
And made its way through my heart; have fun in the promised land.
On the narrowing line. What a way to sort my troubles,
In a very short time. Gonna' pop; better duck and cover.
Can you figure me out? I got caught like a little kid stealing.
Did I say it too loud, a bit hard or a little misleading?
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