| When in the prop of the morning
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| With the traffic and the canon lights
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| On and on till the evening
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| With its thick and orange light
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| I know the nervous walk here
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| The whole city tried to eat itself
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| You kill some track to zero
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| Working hard just to get yourself
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| Sometimes I can’t get it started
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| Back from nothing
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| Sometimes I can’t get it started
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| It is a mass production
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| All the blank little minutes align
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| On and on 'till the evening
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| Where it’s black and orange light
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| And now we nervous walk here
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| Swinging arms like satellites
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| And now we’re nervous walking
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| Until the body won’t sleep through the night
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| Sometimes I can’t get it started
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| Back from nothing
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| Sometimes I can’t get it started
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| Sometimes I can’t get it started
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| Back from nothing
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| Sometimes I can’t get it started
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| Where we lies is a little burned
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| Spinning around
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| Don’t they know that the hours move slow?
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| And I can’t get it started
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| And I can’t get it started
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| And I can’t get it started
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| And I can’t get it started
|
| Where we lies is a little burned
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| Spinning around
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| Don’t they know that the hours move slow?
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| Slow? |