| Hey, punk, with that bottle in your hand
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| What makes you so sad?
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| Could life really be that bad?
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| Sure, you’ve got your reasons
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| But your alibis are lies
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| The story is an old one
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| It’s been told a million times
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| You were glad to be alive
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| On life’s journey
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| You were excited
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| But you were not in a hurry
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| For years, you walked up and down each road
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| You had to try them all
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| Looking for your place, I guess
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| Where you could rest and feel at home
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| Now, tired of walking
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| You’ve started to run
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| Passing everything by
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| But at least you’re having fun
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| Good karma, bad karma
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| You’ll get what you deserve
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| There is good and evil
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| You’ve got a lot to learn
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| There is love, there is hate
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| You can’t do as you please
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| Wash your face, take a bath
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| Your aura’s still filthy
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| In someone’s bathroom, turning blue, puking green
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| You’re senile, senile at seventeen
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| Scars on your brain from drinking beer and smoking weed
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| Another acid tab, another shot of speed |