| Nothing feels right
|
| But my fake smiles paint pictures like everything’s fine
|
| Sheep like what they’re told
|
| So they’ve got spindles spinning bad songs into gold
|
| And who decides what’s wrong or right to like?
|
| When the puzzle pieces twist
|
| And seem like they won’t fit their match
|
| I’ll be waiting, I’ll be waiting
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| All the «best» songs
|
| What’s so «best» about 'em?
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| I thought I was part of something more
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| But more money, less substance, more demand
|
| And I’ve heard great songs that no one understands
|
| You can’t lay bricks on wet cement or build castles out of sand
|
| But who decides?
|
| But when the puzzle pieces twist
|
| And seem like they won’t fit their match
|
| Then I will try and try again
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| And hope that someone understands
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| I’ll be waiting, I’ll be waiting
|
| And they can’t say they love you
|
| But it still won’t change a thing
|
| 'Cause the tides may turn tomorrow
|
| And I won’t be there to look
|
| I can say
|
| I’ve got to say
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| Dollar by dollar your soul gets smaller
|
| Trending what we fought to make ours
|
| And they don’t care about
|
| They don’t care
|
| It’s a good thing that trends fade away
|
| It’s so much cooler in the shade
|
| They don’t care about
|
| They don’t care
|
| We give in nightly to our addiction
|
| A self-afflicted public crucifixion
|
| They don’t care about
|
| They don’t care
|
| Dollar by dollar, your soul gets smaller
|
| Trending what we fought to make ours
|
| They don’t care about
|
| They don’t care about
|
| They don’t care
|
| They never cared |