| It was one of those days when everything was kind of damp
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| Spent my afternoon being chaperoned from middle man to middle man
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| When all you get’s a fool’s gold flash in the pan
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| And the line you paid forty bucks for tastes of bleach and stale contraband
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| And the girl I loved now more than I ever had
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| Woke up coming down in the arms of a real man
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| Surrounded by the overpowering odour of shared house, bleach and a lack of
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| contraband
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| So I tried to understand
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| But I was dying for a cigarette like I didn’t know they’d kill me
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| Listening to records in your bedroom named after great American cities
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| And we got busted in the suburbs by the short and overpowering blonde girl
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| And your mum’s boyfriend called me trash
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| But that’s okay cause you don’t call him dad
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| You just call him when you want some cash
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| Or to make somebody feel bad
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| But you were still the best that I ever had
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| On the V-Line bus back to the motherland
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| From our own slice of paradise on the water and sand
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| Fucking on the beach while the sun rose
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| And the cold salt water washed dried blood from my nose
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| And we hassled kids so much to come to our shows
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| But most of them said, «Look, son, we never really wanted to go.
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| «They said, «Singer-songwriters bore the hell out of me.»
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| And I said, «I'm not a singer-songwriter and I never fucking will be.»
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| But I was dying for a cigarette like I didn’t know they’d kill me
|
| Listening to records in your bedroom named after great American cities
|
| And we got busted in the suburbs by the short and overpowering blonde girl
|
| And your mum’s boyfriend called me trash
|
| But that’s okay cause you don’t call him dad
|
| You just call him when you want some cash
|
| Or to make somebody feel bad
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| But you were still the best that I ever had
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| And it took eighteen months, two houses, three life partners, a dog,
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| a needle and a stolen guitar and countless IOUs for me to say, «I'm sorry,
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| I’m just really far away.»
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| But I was dying for a cigarette like I didn’t know they’d kill me
|
| Listening to records in your bedroom named after great American cities
|
| And we got busted in the suburbs by the short and overpowering blonde girl
|
| And your mum’s boyfriend called me trash
|
| But that’s okay cause you don’t call him dad
|
| You just call him when you want some cash
|
| Or to make somebody feel bad
|
| But you were still the best that I ever had |