| At junction 8 the traffic starts to slow
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| Artilleries of braking lights and bluish glow
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| Ascending in a plumage of twisted steel
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| Shattered glass and confetti dashed upon the wheel
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| When a car crash gets you off you’ve lost your grip
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| When a fuck is not enough you know you’ve slipped
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| When the church is full it means you’ve just been had
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| When the world has gone to seed you’re so detached
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| Got a feeling that I want you to be there
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| Driving by on my way to somewhere else
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| I fill my lungs with a noxious burning smell
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| There is weed and grey concrete like this for miles
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| Dead souls in my rear view mirror hitch a ride for a while
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| I want to be loved |