| When I’m coming home, my mind starts to roam.
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| I go to bed while picking up speed
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| the surface might say that I’m doing okay
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| that I got what a man might need
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| I got my degree, a brand new tv
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| the parts where I live ain’t too bad
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| but I can’t recall, none of it all
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| in any dreams I’ve had
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| I hear myself saying, I’m doing fine my life is a walk through the pines.
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| But I’m sick and I’m tired, spending my time, putting my tomorrows behind.
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| The sky is big and white and I’m locked inside
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| working all day with a frown
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| I guess I’m just a coward who would need to get fired and banished from this
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| town
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| I think to myself, things weren’t trying like tomorrow I’ll quit, tough I’m.
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| but I’m sick and tired spending my time putting my tomorrows behind.
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| I think to myself, time after time
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| tomorrow I’ll be there in my prime
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| but I’m sick and I’m tired, cause I know that I’m lying I’m putting my
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| tomorrows behind
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| I’m sick and I’m tired, cause I’m not even trying
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| I’m putting my tomorrows behinds. |