| There are four white walls in every damn hotel
|
| A light by the bed, stains on the floor
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| And it’s here I will wait out the storm
|
| Killing time on the fringes again
|
| Before the leaving
|
| Before the leaving
|
| There are big trucks that wind and I’d trade them for ours
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| Side by side, we pass through towns we’ll never see
|
| And it’s here I will wait out the storm
|
| Killing time on the fringes again
|
| Before the leaving
|
| Before the leaving
|
| There are red velvet seats in the windowless rooms
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| A curtain to drawa and faces to please
|
| And it’s here I will wait out the storm
|
| Killing time on the fringes again
|
| Before the leaving
|
| Before the leaving
|
| Tarmac the freight
|
| Fortress the fate
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| Scarlet red leaves
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| The cobblestone streets
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| The city, the field
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| The channel, the cape
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| The smell of cold smoke
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| Tunnels through slate
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| It’s all brought us back
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| Now there’s wood that you stacked
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| And it’s on our front porch
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| And it’s staring me down
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| And it tells me you left |