Oh, my voice by now is gone,
Been up all night and now it's dawn.
The window's up, the air is hot,
The flies come in as I scroll your blog.
Oh, my voice won't make a sound.
I look to my brother, he's lying on the ground,
One hand with whiskey, the other on the hound.
Your letter's here, so neatly drawn,
These little things won't let me move on.
Oh, my voice won't make a sound.
I look to my brother, he's lying on the ground,
One hand with whiskey, the other on the hound.
The hornets are raging, a nest inside my head.
My brother says listen: we'll never understand.
He says for now you're young,
Outside we all get burned by the sun.
He says how bad it stung for him,
That's life: we all need the sun.
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