| The sun is shining on full blast, it’s garbage day
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| Air in my tires and all my cares are far away
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| I’m looking like a million bucks, feeling good and sort of frisky
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| Plus enough money in my pocket for a quart of whiskey
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| Tattooed tear drops, confetti, I’ve learned to trust
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| My animal instincts, when farmer’s fields turn to dust
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| This is the day we’ve been waiting for all our lives
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| So let’s write letters to our parents and call our wives
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| Raise the flag, let’s take a drive and raise our voices
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| Celebrate our differences, build a bridge and praise our choices
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| There’s babies crying and it makes it hard to go to sleep
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| Some days are throw aways and others you’re supposed to keep
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| Time waits for none of us, even though my watch is slow
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| And nothing’s for certain but I’m searching for sasquatch
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| And you know what, the unknown is all part of the plan
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| For a runaway soul and a hard loving man
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| Protest, I’ve had it up to here
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| See ya, get lost, this is what we think of your ideas
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| Protest, we’re not going to take it
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| We’ve been through it so make a wish and break it in two
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| New beginning, I’ve washed my hands and made my bed
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| Maybe I’ll turn on the television or shave my head
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| I’m getting kind of bored with the same old cheese and crackers
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| My plan’s all inside out, my reason’s backwards
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| Some new air in my lungs is what the doctor ordered
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| But being exposed makes me feel kind of awkward sort of
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| Give me a shot in the arm first, the clock’s ticking
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| I’m watching the water boil, I like to let the plot thicken
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| I’m ear to ear with good intentions and vibrations, I’m on fire
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| Sometimes I conspire with Vaughn Squire
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| Sometimes we go alone, over hills and through the sewers
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| Try to keep our edges sharp and learn a few maneuvers
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| The whole world is drying up and everybody’s eyes are red
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| It’s hard to see or even try to guess of what lies ahead
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| But you know what, the unknown is all part of the plan
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| For a runaway soul and a hard loving man |