| I sit at this table and I stare at my hands
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| Everyday they go to look up
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| They’re more like my dads
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| And I trace these veins that run up and down my arms
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| From where I’m sitting, I trace sixty more years
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| And I’ve learned to count on nothing
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| 'Cause most times its all I’ve got
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| And all I see is me, my roots are starting to ride
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| All you wanna do is win when you’re losing
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| You say you want some competition, well, I’m not that strong
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| Just put away your ladder, I’m happy where I am
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| My fate seems clear to me, man, it’s out of my hands
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| And sometimes I feel like a genius, other times I feel like a fool
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| My friends indulge me, but most times I think I know it all
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| But mostly I feel like a little boy, I’d rather feel pain than show fear
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| I don’t wanna make excuses, but my horoscope said it would be a bad year
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| And sometimes I see myself getting killed
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| On one of these big scary streets
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| And then I’d have nothing to live up to
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| And no expectations to me, oh
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| All you wanna do is win when you’re losing
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| You say you want some competition, well, I’m not that strong
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| Just put away your ladder, I’m happy where I am
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| My fate seems clear to me, man, it’s out of my hands |