| I’m at my best when I’m at my worst
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| I’m at my worst when it’s not rehearsed
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| I don’t want to know the goddamn words
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| I don’t want to have to spell it out
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| Don’t want to mumble what I’m trying to say
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| I want to scream it from my foaming mouth
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| Shoot out the lights and ride away
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| I’m in my worst when I’m at my best
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| I’m at my best when I’m trying to look and think and talk
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| And sing and read and write like all the rest
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| We’re all just trying to play our roles
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| In a play that runs ad nauseum
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| I hate this damn enlightenment
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| We were better off as animals
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| We’re at our best when it’s from our hips
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| From our hips we don’t give a shit
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| It just feels good, and that’s no sin
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| It’s the only way to feel alive
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| The closest thing to being born again
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| And when baby comes its «job well done»
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| Roll in the hay, or roll around the sun
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| We’re at our worst when it’s from our lips
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| From our lips we caused a rift
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| And the world is fallin' in
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| From Babel to barroom brawls
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| Our words have formed a death sentence
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| And I wish that we had never talked
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| Our hips said it all
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| And I wish that we had never talked
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| Our hips said it all |