| Here on the outskirts of life
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| Dreams seldom come true
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| Flippin' thru photographs emotional holographs
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| Cutouts of all the figures you might’ve been
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| Reflections of a life that you once lived
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| As the evening descends
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| Your conscious of every breath
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| And every moment is a crisis, I guess
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| Starin' out the windows of your hotel room
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| You lit one too many fires underneath that spoon
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| Well I guess you deserve the chosen few
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| Real life, just out of view
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| Well that’s just here
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| On the outskirts
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| Yea, that’s here
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| On the outskirts of your life
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| And there’s a picture we’ve all seen
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| It was taken in the lobby of the L.A. Ambassador Hotel
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| It’s the silhouette of a man in another’s arms
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| So turn off your TVs, and let that train go home
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| 'Cause everyone warned you that California
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| Wasn’t goin' to be the end
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| California wasn’t gonna be the end
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| And tell me where can you hide when
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| The whole world is ugly and strange
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| Yea tell me where you gonna turn when
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| This whole world knows your name
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| And these four walls are screamin'
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| And all your friends were so deceiving
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| Yea you forgot the lines of a part you rehearsed so well
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| Lyin' awake in the Brazilian Court Hotel
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| But that’s just here
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| On the outskirts
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| Yea, that’s here
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| On the outskirts
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| Of your life |