| I am a ruin, ancient, dated
|
| Fell too close to the end of the rope
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| Now I’m missing, overgrown
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| What if you’re frozen and I’m not there
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| To talk it out and thaw you out anymore?
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| Your golden hammer took its final bow and spit you out
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| And I don’t know what to sing
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| Say, hey, it keeps coming around
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| I keep turning my back on this city
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| I won’t change
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| You are blooming, poison azalea
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| Fell too close to the end of your rope
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| Now I’m wasted, unknown
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| The tide is rolling and they’re coming with torches
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| So burn out their retinas, rally supporters
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| And get your cameras and catch the reaction
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| No satisfaction
|
| You don’t know what to sing
|
| But it’s coming around
|
| I keep turning my back on this city
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| I won’t change
|
| It keeps coming around
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| It keeps coming around
|
| It keeps coming around
|
| And I can’t sit
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| Alright
|
| I was crawling for weeks
|
| I kept hurting my back and now I can’t sit down
|
| Got these aches in my arms and my legs still shake
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| And now I can’t sit down
|
| It keeps coming around
|
| It keeps coming around
|
| It keeps coming around
|
| And now I can’t sit down
|
| It keeps coming around
|
| It keeps coming around
|
| It keeps coming around
|
| And now I kiss it down
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| I was crawling for weeks
|
| I kept hurting my back and now I can’t sit down
|
| It keeps coming around
|
| It keeps coming around
|
| It keeps coming around
|
| And now I can’t sit down
|
| It keeps coming around
|
| I keep turning my back on this city
|
| It’s okay |