| Fifteen songs, fifteen shows
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| Fifteen pigs sucking at your tit
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| How does it feel to live here?
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| How does it feel to leave here?
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| Fifteen notes, fifteen notes
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| Fifteen dogs chewing on your throat
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| How does it feel to come home?
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| I wish you had a home
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| And you’ve got nothing I want but got something I need
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| You’ve got the elegant ability to breathe
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| Traffic report, fifteen dead
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| A head-on collision, at least that what I thought I had read
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| We’re the kids in America!
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| We’re the kids in America!
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| Fifteen days, you’re back on track
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| With fifteen ounces cut out of your fucking back
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| How does it feel to be you?
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| I do not envy you, dude
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| You’ve got nothing I like but got something I love
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| You got the charm and the skills to rise above
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| You know how to be loved
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| And you’re as clean as a broke-dick dog
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| And I don’t want to be like you
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| But I’m still rooting for you
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| I would hate to be like you
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| But I’m still rooting for you
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| I would hate to be like you
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| But I’m still rooting for you
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| I don’t want to be like you
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| But I’m still rooting for you
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| You’ve got nothing I hate but got something I loathe
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| You still walk around letting other people pick out your clothes
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| And they will tell you when to go They’ll tell you who to know
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| And they will tell you when to stop
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| And then you’ll stop |