| Sometimes people can’t see certain
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| Things apart from when they’re
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| Looking down at you.
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| Gonna make you well pissed.
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| It is easier for them to
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| Make their judgements in advance.
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| They’re not for you,
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| Not really what you wished for.
|
| And in the rain, you are the same.
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| You both are wet and cold again,
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| And you’re both just girls,
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| And you can multi-task and stuff.
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| And sometimes people find it hard
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| To mingle with the different folk,
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| They lock their doors,
|
| Living with opinions is tough.
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| You’re just an idea that your parents had one day.
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| You’re just an idea that your parents had one day.
|
| Being here might make you happy,
|
| Being here might make you sad,
|
| But it’s still a damn good idea that your parents had.
|
| Passing on this fictitious
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| Divinity to all their kids
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| And their kid’s kids.
|
| And it will never end.
|
| I’m still working out with sugar babies, the most pretty out of
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| All of them and then I work it
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| Out again because they are attractive young ladies,
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| Admit I copy their CDs, but I like track ten.
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| Juggling their heritage with
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| Single bedroomed families
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| With one toilet,
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| Gunna get on your nerves.
|
| And we don’t live in the capital,
|
| So all we do is
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| Have sex with our relatives.
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| We get what we deserve.
|
| You’re just an idea that your parents had one day.
|
| You’re just an idea that your parents had one day.
|
| Being here might make you happy,
|
| Being here might make you sad,
|
| But it’s still a damn good idea that your parents had.
|
| Maybe if we all did as
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| Her majesty, we all would
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| Die of being bored.
|
| Our bones would seize up.
|
| Public places act as waiting rooms
|
| ‘Til we can get to
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| Where we really are,
|
| And then we get beat up.
|
| Brushing shoulders with a stranger
|
| Has become less frequent now
|
| As time goes on
|
| 'Cause I might have scabies (love you dad).
|
| Who has made these lines across
|
| The seating plan of life
|
| Because it wasn’t us.
|
| We were all just babies.
|
| Now we’re just annoying roommates sharing one big lump of planet
|
| Every day and it is getting harder every second just to
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| Say what we would like, even if it isn’t right
|
| And this is all our land.
|
| People cannot look at you,
|
| Relate to anything you do.
|
| They nod their heads,
|
| Pretend they understand…
|
| Well the fat man might not be a pig,
|
| But that female judge has a stupid wig
|
| And they’ve never met,
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| But they think alike.
|
| Hello the forties, here I come,
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| 'Cause I would rather be a bum
|
| Back then than now,
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| I think it sounds all right.
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| We’re nothing that we need to be,
|
| So drown that whiskey
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| Like it’s tea with vodka in,
|
| And get yourself to sleep.
|
| This will make itself much worse
|
| As generations learn
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| The way their parents were.
|
| Words are what you keep.
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| The only girl I ever loved
|
| Took twenty minutes to download,
|
| But she was worth the wait,
|
| She never moves.
|
| If life’s a fight with baseball bats
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| And handbag slappings I know that
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| We’d all just fall,
|
| We’d always lose.
|
| You’re just an idea that your parents had one day.
|
| You’re just an idea that your parents had one day.
|
| Being here might make you happy,
|
| Being here might make you sad,
|
| But it’s still a damn good idea that your parents had. |