| Cold wind it blows,
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| Blowing through you like Sunday morning.
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| Chill in my bones, take me home, take me.
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| Home is where the heart is, but my heart’s been truly stolen.
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| Cold wind it blows, wind it blows.
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| Fire in my gut reminding me that yes I will,
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| Great big rut, great big hole, great big hole.
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| Oh, no one knows. |
| You tell me where those chains begin.
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| Fire in my gut, in my gut,
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| In my gut.
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| And there are places you will never go.
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| And there are things that you never know.
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| It all depends on which side of the road.
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| Cold wind in my soul makes me feel like
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| I am floating far from my place. |
| I got no land,
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| I got no face. |
| Tell me Mr, what’s a man supposed to believe in?
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| Hole in my soul, in my soul, in my soul.
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| And there are places you will never go.
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| And there are things that you will never know.
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| It all depends on which side of the road.
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| Gun in my hand, you tell me that
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| I am to obey laws of your land, of your land, of your land.
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| You don’t follow the rules of the silly games you play.
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| Gun in my hand, in my hand, in my hand.
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| And there are places you will never go.
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| And there are things that you never know.
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| It all depends on which side of the road. |