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Portugal. The Man
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P is for the city P is for, P is for, for the city P is for, for the ci-, ci-, city P is for, P is for the city where it all began I'm an Ernest Hemingway portrait painted by Ernie Barnes Clean sneakers and dirty horns, last soldier of thirty gone Who lost hope but still journeyed on Yet I'm the reason we gon' have to get the gurney for him Karma police carrying customized cuffs for me I hope these taped up guns still bust for me I had the whole world, it wasn't enough for me It got me feelin' like the Lord lost trust for me I made a means to an end when there were no wins I burned bridges, I had sworn to be eternal friends The last ones I ever intended to turn against Until we grew our separate ways like fraternal twins So to the chosen few with whom I need to reconcile My mother's mother, my only brother, my second child I've always loved you, although that was rarely said aloud So take forever, I guess better late than never proud I'm gonna breath in the bellows with the apple on my head It's hard to gain perspective with the world in your hands Gonna drown in the shallows, ashes in the bay Never lookin' back until there's nothin' in my way
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