| 100 kites flew in a flock
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| 100 dogs threw up a bark
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| The wheels and pedals of our bikes they spun
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| In mechanic salute to the winter sun
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| Pasted poorly above like a glittery piece of tinfoil
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| Don’t you dare fall down
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| If I’m this tired while having fun
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| It makes me worried that something’s wrong
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| How much longer will I be young
|
| So much stuff that I haven’t done
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| On the soggy streets of Budapest
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| On an escape mission from the West
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| We met the remnants of the Welsh invasion
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| It took all our wit and bravery
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| And we had to stop for elevenses
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| So eventually we chose to embrace them
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| If I’m this tired while having fun
|
| It makes me worried that something’s wrong
|
| How much longer will I be young
|
| So much stuff that I haven’t done
|
| If I’m this tired while having fun
|
| It makes me worried that something’s wrong
|
| How much longer will I be young
|
| In another bar, on another street
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| But it really might as well not be
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| We laugh and toast away the nighttime hours
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| And at 6 a.m., when I go to sleep
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| All the birds are scowling in at me
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| And I beg them in their mercy to forgive us
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| I’m this tired while having fun
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| How much longer will I be young |