| Do you ever stop to count all the invitations
|
| At the end of the day when it comes down to one decision
|
| Of dead beat girls and freaks at a peoples convention
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| All these sugars with no vitamin sensation
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| Do you ever stop to look over old relations
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| Or look to the belly of another one’s emotions
|
| Someone young in the winds of a revolution
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| Trying to save his face in the evolution
|
| Asleep at the wheel
|
| No windshield
|
| But you know that the streets
|
| Here don’t change
|
| He’s kept alive in the chain of mental starvation
|
| Bone rail skinny, only feeding off frustration
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| Unlike you who seem bred from corruption
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| Feeding off the plates of an ununited nation
|
| Asleep at the wheel
|
| No windshield
|
| But you know that the streets
|
| Here don’t change
|
| With a lover in the street whose waiting to make a connection
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| To be the mother to the soul of your next abortion
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| She’ll steal your money with the eyes of a baby’s complexion
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| Then she’ll laugh at you and your sexual invention
|
| Smelling like a rose, in the flowers of devotion
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| Devoted the heat of a spotlight in motion
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| With a face full of mud even though you were only joking
|
| As if you really understood the value of isolation
|
| Asleep at the wheel
|
| No windshield
|
| But you know that the streets
|
| Here don’t change
|
| Your tongue so fast like a freight train coming on rollin'
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| Every smile you give’s just to keep your mouth from clothin'
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| Every engine burns as a sign of the explosion
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| Locked in neutral your engines are broken
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| Like candle wax that sun melts into the ocean
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| Like the moon that lights the tracks of the old train station
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| You can color in the lines of mother earth’s addictions
|
| And not hold a gun in the face of the Earth’s abduction
|
| Asleep at the wheel
|
| No windshield
|
| But you know that the streets
|
| Here don’t change |