| It’s in the grain of the wood
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| It’s in the needle’s rust
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| It’s in the eagle’s claw
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| It’s in the eyes you trust
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| It’s in the jackal’s dreams
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| It’s in the sleet and the hail
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| It’s in the unmarked box
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| That came today in the mail
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| It’s in the dead man’s pocket
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| It’s in the child’s first sin
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| It’s in the Constitution
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| Written in very small print
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| It’s in Colin Powell’s lies
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| It’s in the shaman’s trance
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| It’s in the cellar waiting
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| And it’s in the best laid plans
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| We could cut and run
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| And take half the blame
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| Don’t stop now
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| That’s why we came
|
| House gone up in flames
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| It’s in the National Anthem
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| It’s in the scurrying roach
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| It’s in the closed partition
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| 'Tween first class and coach
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| It’s in the relentless fever
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| It’s in the lonely room
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| It’s in the hands of fate
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| And it’s in the pharaoh’s tomb
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| It’s in the rich man’s dreams
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| It’s in the poor man’s hands
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| It’s in the body bags
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| Along the Rio Grande
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| It’s in the evening shade
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| It’s on the zealot’s tongue
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| It’s in the widow’s tears
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| And it’s in the miner’s lungs
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| We could cut and run
|
| And take half the blame
|
| Don’t stop now
|
| That’s why we came
|
| House gone up in flames
|
| It’s in the moon’s dark spin
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| It’s in the cloudless sky
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| It was in St. Peter’s denial
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| That he’d thrice deny
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| It’s in the distant thunder
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| It’s in the whispered prayer
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| That they won’t find us hidden here
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| Beneath the stairs
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| So consider yourself lucky
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| And watch what you say
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| I got what I wanted
|
| You might get the same
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| It’s in the bold print nailed
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| To the cathedral door
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| It’s in the black cold pressure
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| On the ocean floor
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| We could cut and run
|
| And take half the blame
|
| Don’t stop now
|
| That’s why we came
|
| House gone up in flames |