| I am an arms dealer,
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| Fitting you with weapons in the form of words.
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| And don’t really care which side wins,
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| As long as the room keeps singing.
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| That’s just the business I’m in.
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| This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race.
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| This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race.
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| This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race.
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| I’m not a shoulder to cry on,
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| But, I digress.
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| I’m a leading man,
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| And the lies I weave are oh-so intricate.
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| Oh-so intricate.
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| I’m a leading man,
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| And the lies I weave are oh-so intricate.
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| Oh-so intricate, yeah.
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| I wrote the gospel on giving up.
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| (You look pretty sinking,)
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| But the real bombshells have already sunk.
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| (Prima-donnas of the gutter.)
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| At night we’re painting your trash gold while you sleep.
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| Crashing not like hips or cars,
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| No, more like p-p-p-parties.
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| This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race.
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| This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race.
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| This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race.
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| Bandwagon’s full,
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| Please, catch another.
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| I’m a leading man,
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| And the lies I weave are oh-so intricate.
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| Oh-so intricate.
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| I’m a leading man,
|
| And the lies I weave are oh-so intricate.
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| Oh-so intricate.
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| Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh.
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| All the boys who the dance floor didn’t love,
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| And all the girls who’s lips couldn’t move fast enough;
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| Sing, until your lungs give out.
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| This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race.
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| This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race.
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| (Now you.)
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| This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race.
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| (Wear out the groove.)
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| This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race.
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| (Sing out loud.)
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| This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race.
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| (Oh, oh.)
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| This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamned arms race.
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| I’m a leading man,
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| And the lies I weave are oh-so intricate.
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| Oh-so intricate.
|
| I’m a leading man,
|
| And the lies I weave are oh-so intricate.
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| Oh-so intricate. |