| Are you tortured by that dial?
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| Talkin' radios at 5
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| Wishin' you could reach inside and dunk the clown
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| Hear the callers call and say
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| They’re the real Americay
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| As they’re diggin' holes and loadin' up on rounds
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| But each time the good guys win
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| I make sure I’m tunin' in
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| And I’m grinnin' as they whine and twist and shout
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| Hear ‘em squirmin' in their seats
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| Know they’re turnin' in their sleep
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| See ‘em break and run when they all hit the ground
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| They hit the ground, they hit the ground
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| See ‘em break and run when they all hit the ground
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| Every time those bells a’ring
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| A couple demons lose their wings
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| See ‘em break and run when they all hit the ground
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| I know it seems we’re always stuck
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| Tires spinnin' in the mud
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| But I swear: we move along, not stick around
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| Change ain’t always comin' soon
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| One step fro but two steps to
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| And it’s worth the wait to see ‘em hit the ground
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| They hit the ground, they hit the ground
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| Said it’s worth the wait to see ‘em hit the ground
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| I wanna hear ‘em go kerplunk
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| Scramblin' for their bibles, guns
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| Said it’s worth the wait to see ‘em hit the ground
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| They set traps at every turn
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| Set up straw men just to burn
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| But I love to hear that sweet exquisite sound
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| Of the cry when put to bed
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| Of the «Bang! |
| You’re dead!»
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| Of the bellyachin' as they hit the ground
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| They hit the ground, oh what a sound
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| In the real Americay, we are the ground
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| So let’s watch their heads explode
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| Liberty, justice overload
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| More to come, as one by one, they hit the ground |