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What's the difference from a Saturday night |
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Where the light spreads dark around the drunk hearts |
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In their headless hallways where bodies are |
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put on the market place |
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To happiness endlessly taking pills |
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With the young going down |
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I see nothing or nowhere |
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I know what I've found |
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Must be in paradise |
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Next year we will live in the country |
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With our money, by day the sky builds |
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Doing our laundry and renting us some random machines |
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Getting our religion and sex on the TV |
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Assumptions made simply to get away |
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Everyone old is already with me |
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On tiny decks enjoying midsummer weather and friendly company |
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And in their picture frames there you and I will be |
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Knowing what we've found |
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Enough to get away |
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Knowing what we've found |
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Enough to get away |
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Knowing what we've found |
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Enough to get away |
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Knowing what we've found |
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Enough to get away |
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Bright drops of blood so my thoughts are |
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I turn to lie down but sleep stays far |
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I'm just an echo of the song going through my head |
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The light behides the ghost |
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But I'm the one that's dead |
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And I think of who you be |
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When you're here with me |
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Maybe it's a spiritual disease |
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Sliding through shoots of oblivion into infinity |
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Back into our maker's hands |
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No more rain or controversy |
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Knowing what we've found |
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Enough to get away |
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Knowing what we've found |
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Enough to get away |
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Knowing what we've found |
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Enough to get away |
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Knowing what we've found |
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Enough to get away |