| Smoking cinders settle in an ashtray
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| In a dingy bar where romances are born
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| The sound of Denver seeping from the jukebox
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| But no country road could ever take us home
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| She speaks like raging tides against the coastline
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| I’m rendered ragged by things that she might know
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| The whiskey and this feeling bring me back to better times
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| Let it go let it go let it go
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| Wait you remind me of someone I used to love
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| The way she revived me
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| But that was so long ago
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| And now the passing days on the outside feel gray
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| And it never ever rains
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| The city is burning right now I’m dying
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| It’s hard to wash your hands clean
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| Of these dying days
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| Sweaty palmed I swallow down my cocktail
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| Like the things I feel but know I shouldn’t say
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| Every morning I awake to my sighs of reassurance
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| It’s okay it’s okay it’s okay
|
| Wait you remind me of someone I used to love
|
| The way she revived me
|
| But that was so long ago
|
| And now the passing days on the outside feel gray
|
| And it never ever rains
|
| The city is burning right now I’m dying
|
| It’s hard to wash your hands clean
|
| Of these dying days
|
| Well there I go digging graves for every single pretty girl
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| Pretty soon they’ll be no more left to move
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| And I’ll be filling holes with a longing in my soul
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| If it’s not one of those things I tend to lose
|
| Now the passing days on the outside feel gray
|
| And it never ever rains
|
| The city is burning right now I’m dying
|
| It’s hard to wash your hands clean |