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Postcard
by
Uncle Tupelo
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Lost sight of ground, never been so down Nothing here to stand on It's a war-weary road another faceless tombstone Nothing here to stand on Turn to face the wind may never get out Forever caught in a spin, no better place to begin Can't find the phone, can't hear to listen Can't take along what we're missing Just as well to write this postcard from Helland The bar clock says three a.m Fallout shelter sign above the door In other words, don't come here anymore Too many miles between I heard a dead man scream Nothing here to stand on Each and every step reeling out more or less Nothing here to stand on I turn to face the wind may never get out Forever caught in a spin no better place to begin I turn to face the wind may never get out Forever caught in a spin no better place to begin Tried to stay, tried to run There's never been enough reason to believe in anyone This trickle-down theory has left all these pockets empty And the bar clock says three a.m. Fallout shelter sign above the door In other words, don't come here anymore
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