| We wipe the chaff from our hands
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| And the sweat off of our brows
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| We mourn the old setting sun
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| And our empty bank accounts
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| For all the damages we’ve done in the service of a dream
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| They say, baby, you’ll pay dearly
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| Oh how these roads make us old
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| And the sunrise makes us quake
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| We live for scant scraps of hope
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| Laid along the interstate
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| Of all the places we’ll go, we’ll wind up memory and debris
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| And I’ll say, kid, you’re coming with me
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| I’ll close my eyes and pretend to pray that the rain never ends
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| But when the oceans dry up, I’ll know enough is enough
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| And I’ll sing softly
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| I guess I’ll see you around
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| We’ll take the last thing we know
|
| And we’ll let it run our lives
|
| Serenade the devil with those songs
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| We’ve sang too many times
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| That just blow by and leave us numb with the thrill of our defeat
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| I’ll keep the habit if it kills me
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| Holy ghost
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| Let us live until we’re forgotten
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| Hold me close
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| To the floors of masterless oceans
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| Holy ghost
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| To the souls of motherless orphans
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| Hold me close
|
| Til our histories lay still in their coffins |