| Well I’ve been up and down these same damn roads
|
| And nothing ever seems to change
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| (And uh…) You grow a little older, then one day, your strange becomes mundane
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| Don’t know how folks can do it day after day
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| What does it feel like to be here and not feel right?
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| Does it feel like fighting?
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| Does it serve to a nightmare?
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| I don’t know all of the details of the day
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| But I felt that it wouldn’t be wrong to bow my head and pray
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| Cause' there’s nothing our here but busted trucks, a few beers and rusted nails
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| There’s some broken bottles and boarded up houses
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| And these worn out old man tales
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| And I’m not sure that I can go on with my day
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| Can’t get lost in the soft skin
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| Would you please meet me half way?
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| I could drown in this old playground, where the streets don’t have no name
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| All my friends skipped town or went to jail, just to hide their shame
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| I’m running out of patience
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| This soul’s to break
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| The days got rain to make me go crazy
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| Get out of this rut (can't get out of this rut)
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| Got to pick myself up (I got to pick myself up)
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| I could leave, it wouldn’t matter
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| Cause nobody notices the weekend after that
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| Because inside they’re sad and lonely
|
| And I’ll be hoping this day…
|
| But it’s not looking that way…
|
| But what can I say?
|
| I’ve got music to make
|
| God, hoping that these trenches, they ain’t just standing to break
|
| But I could take 5, then we’re ready to play
|
| Do you people feel what we see?
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| We’re gonna give it to ya
|
| The weatherman said «mostly rain again», damn
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| Take that winter and stick it where the sun don’t shine
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| Trying to find the benefits
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| In the gray state of mind
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| It’s isolated in my melancholy confine
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| And I’m turning to a migraine, an aging think tank
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| Today faded on tomorrow’s daybreak
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| To chase if I stay awake
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| Naps to conversate
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| Bastards play keep away with contracts
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| I’m gonna have to have it with death
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| Forget about that
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| On the fast track to disaster, past my salary cap
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| Tapped out and cash strapped
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| No way — I’ll keep looking
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| No change between cushions
|
| Won’t play the game crooked
|
| The Queen killed my rook
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| I don’t want to stay so **** it
|
| I’ll sacrifice my peace
|
| The heart on my sleeves, tuck it
|
| Muzzle those words
|
| Uttered bombs, so puzzled and tongue twisted
|
| I’m done with it… and it’s just begun
|
| I’m running out of patience
|
| This soul’s to break
|
| The days got rain to make me go crazy
|
| Get out of this rut (can't get out of this rut)
|
| Got to pick myself up (I got to pick myself up)
|
| I could leave, it wouldn’t matter
|
| Cause nobody notices the weekend after that
|
| Because inside they’re sad and lonely
|
| And I’ll be hoping this day…
|
| But it’s not looking that way…
|
| But what can I say?
|
| I’ve got music to make
|
| God, hoping that these trenches, they ain’t just standing to break
|
| But I could take 5, then we’re ready to play
|
| Do you people feel what we see?
|
| No change between cushions
|
| Won’t play the game crooked
|
| The Queen killed my rook
|
| I don’t want to stay so **** it
|
| I’ll sacrifice my peace
|
| The heart on my sleeves, tuck it
|
| Muzzle those words
|
| Uttered bombs, so puzzled and tongue twisted
|
| I’m done with it… and it’s just begun
|
| I’m running out of patience
|
| This soul’s to break
|
| The days got rain to make me go crazy
|
| Get out of this rut (can't get out of this rut)
|
| Got to pick myself up (I got to pick myself up)
|
| I could leave, it wouldn’t matter
|
| Cause nobody notices the weekend after that
|
| Because inside they’re sad and lonely
|
| And I’ll be hoping this day…
|
| But it’s not looking that way…
|
| But what can I say?
|
| I’ve got music to make
|
| God, hoping that these trenches, they ain’t just standing to break
|
| But I could take 5, then we’re ready to play
|
| Do you people feel what we see?
|
| We’re gonna give it to ya |