| I think of days of youth
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| When snow would come and we would play
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| And jump down from the roof
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| Careless of the consequences
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| Screaming through the night; |
| Committing senseless, stupid crimes
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| We’re Drinking dark-red poisoned wine; |
| Slowly Losing sense of time
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| But as truth shines through the rotten sun
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| We screamed with realization — THE THRILL IS GONE
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| HERE COMES YOUR MOTHER
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| She steps into the church
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| She bows down to the god she never knew or kissed or loved
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| She prays for mercy seas to take her
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| Far away from harm, To be cared for and be loved
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| To cry out the names of god; |
| And to be guided through the dark
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| But as truth shines through the rotten sun
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| She screams with realization — THE THRILL IS GONE
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| HERE COMES YOUR MOTHER
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| I think of days of youth, endless hours, wasted time
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| While being blind for the truth
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| Nothing lasts and nothing stays
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| Now we are torn apart, draw your daggers through your hearts
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| Pull your dreams and hopes at last for the lonesome times have passed
|
| But as truth shines through the rotten sun |
| We screamed with realization — THE THRILL IS GONE |