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Spoonboy
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Gerald Lee Palmer
Gerald Lee Palmer Raises his daughter In a house in the suburbs He spent half of his life Makin' auto parts
He dealt with the lay-offs And got an IT job And raised his kids like statistics Now every so often He thinks of his daughter
She wakes up, Still consumed by his silence And he wonders why She don't call him
She gets by, Goes through with her life She occasionally thinks about How it's his fault That she's fallen
Belly up, belly up Belly up, belly up She's fallen, belly up Belly up, belly up She's fallen Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com
So we are all lonely We are all 'if only's We are all porcelain dolls on display We are all products of Hard-workin' Americans
But we're roadblocks to efficiency We are the inaccuracies We are the victims of a culture that Defines happiness in economics
And we wake up Unfulfilled by the silence of A million clueless fuckin' patriarchs
Like Gerald Lee Palmer Who misses his daughter, But he never even talked to her And it's his own fault now that he's fallin'
Belly up, belly up Belly up, belly up He's fallin' belly up Belly up, belly up He's fallin'
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