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Wherever they went
They had all forgotten
How to start a fire

This is why people OD on pills
And jump from the
Golden Gate Bridge
Anything to feel weightless again

Those poor lost Indians
When the white man found them
Most died of TB
The rest went insane

In our motel room
You're drinking slice and gin
Reading Moby Dick
On the other bed

Remember the first time
We slept together
You said it felt like
When you learned to float

This is why people OD on pills
And jump from the
Golden Gate Bridge
Anything to feel weightless again