| The streets kept coming and coming and coming? |
| through his tracks
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| And every scene he spied was all the same
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| He kept running and running and running and never looked back
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| He never realised how far he came
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| And it didn’t matter that the latter part hadn’t bothered him
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| Rather all the sadness that followed him as if it was a ball and chain
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| It was a long await, his posture had changed fraught with his fault and his
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| anger
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| Until he wouldn’t respond when they called his name
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| It was all part of the game, it started as a play to get ends
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| It left him with the breath of debt and less friends
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| And yet he never questioned where the quest went
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| And when dissenters didn’t deem him special
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| He did his best to impress them and this led to regrets then
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| Still he was dead-set on success and distress
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| He only expressed through a sent text
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| Addressed to anyone he hadn’t met yet
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| The tires peeled on desire’s wheels
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| Again he said, «I can feel.»
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| The distance
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| The city had changed him as he reflected on the decade that passed
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| His life, he reckoned at last, was a staged pun
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| With a fantasy masked where the grave was dug
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| A double life revamped and the other side bites till it tastes blood
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| So he drives to escape driving a stake through his great love
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| Incessantly trying to shine through the bars like a caged sun
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| Dissecting a piece of the strange run
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| With the dirty southern niggers working for crumbs
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| In some underground dank club
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| Where there’s nothing but strained hugs from mother and father
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| And a strange son cause he can’t recall when he became one
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| Though the shame is heavy and weighs tons
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| He still finds a way to place blame on what they’ve done
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| Visits they’ve stayed away from
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| And perhaps it was that all along so he just carries on
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| And he can barely call because the talks are rarely calm
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| He wears his calluses like a tux to a daily prom
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| Wearily feeling forever young until they play the song
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| And his patient wife waits gracefully while he breaks the dawn
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| Racing across the States to raise the stakes and cost to pay it off
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| Debating cons of procreation on the hopes to trade it off
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| A basic honest home relations, how’d they know it would take this long?
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| But he placed his honour in the way he crawled
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| All that means is he hits the floor harder from farther up in case he falls
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| He’s racing towards the exit so disconnected
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| He felt compelled to misdirect his perspective
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| I can feel
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| And the more that I stand still
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| The closer I get still |