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Woke up this morning at 11:11

Wasn't in Portland and I wasn't in heaven

Could have been either by the way I was feeling

But I was alive, I was alive

Woke up this morning at 11:11

John was half-naked and Lulu was crying

Over a baby that will never go crazy

But I was alive

And kicking through this cruel world

Holding a notion of you at 11:11

Tell me what else can I do

What else can I do?

Woke up this morning and something was burning

Realized that everything really does

happen in Manhattan

Thoughts were of characters and afternoons lying

And you, you were alive

Oh the hours we are seperate

11:11 is just precious time we've wasted

So patch up your bleeding hearts

And put away your posies

I'm gonna have a drink

Before we ring around the rosies with you 

There was a period in my life where every time I looked at the clock, it was 11:11. It was weird. And then there was September 11 and Flight 11 - it was time to buy a lottery ticket or write a song or something. So that one is very much centered around September 11. It's about how precious time is while you still have it.