| Like a roach in a sink, I was fighting the water
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| I fell on my back down the drain
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| I’d drown you’d think but no sooner than later
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| I was back on my feet again
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| Yeah, I crawled on the streets, looking up at the buildings
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| And often I hid my face
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| I paced among feet, your floor was my ceiling
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| But now I live like I own the place
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| On the road below me
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| I smile at the joys of travelling
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| On the road below me
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| I can handle almost everything
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| On the road below me
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| First I was sad; |
| but now I’m free
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| On the road below me
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| The distance from here to a memory
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| Every day was a mountain, the fear of what hid
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| Inside of the timeworn phrases
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| I went from pale to gray, from being shut away
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| And now I can’t resist new faces
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| Days become weeks, yeah, March becomes May
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| Looking back at my sleepless nights
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| But, hey, I’m built for trouble and I can take a lot
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| And I can safely say: I’m allright!
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| On the road below me … Allright!
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| You know wonders are wonderful
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| -Even when they are being asked for.
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| Yeah, we just don’t know
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| What life has in store for us.
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| Because the moral of this is immoral
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| And the moral escapes me now…
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| On the road below me … |