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Dave Matthews Band, "Satellite"
Rust high above the clouds who ate constrictions
Television rebounds from the whirl
And while I spend the hours
Five senses are eating me
I laugh about this sweater man's saddle come downs.
Rest high above the clouds, no restriction
Television we bounce 'round the world
And while I spend these hours
Five senses reeling
I laugh about the weatherman's satellite eyes.
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