this song is about rob, who died this past spring.
it felt like rob was going away the entire time i knew him.
now he talks to the aliens.
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you kept us all on the edge of our thinking.
you slept long into the day.
you were fond of the venial distractions.
you sort of knew you would float away.
you've gotten so elevated you can barely be seen.
you slowly disintegrated. you're like the end of a dream.
you're going away.
you can talk to the aliens.
and you can hear what they say.
you gathered us into your circle.
you've got a way with words, you got away with murder.
yours was such a willing oppression.
you always had to go further.
you spin a beautiful voodoo from the strands of your hair.
you know, you can't be the guru when you're not even there.
you're going away.
now you live with the aliens.
and you can hear what they say.
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(c) (p) sharp eleven, inc., all rights reserved.
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"your alien hairdos hurt the bopping images.
teenage plastic milkmen... touch my soul.
the television people reject the hep computers.
yapping spinsters... be here now.
-... .-. --- - .... . .-. --. ..- .-. ..- --..--
-... . .... . .-. . -. --- .-- .-.-.-"
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