| I woke up bleeding in the crotch of a tree
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| TV blaring on the wall above the coffee machine
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| Car wash waiting room outside Pasadena
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| I’m sitting waiting for my deus ex machina
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| And I’m forever changed by this chemical burn
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| Skin on my fingers peeling, making way for my new form
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| I grip the steering wheel and picture my angel
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| Climbing out the hospital window
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| Leaving tubes in a tangle
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| Blood on my angel’s lips blends in with his makeup
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| He’s off the premises before his brain’s had time to wake up
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| Peeling off bandages to unfold his wings
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| The doctors said they’d have to stay on for another three weeks
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| Fuck it baby, let 'em bruise, let 'em break
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| But bleed, let 'em bleed
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| And I’m doing ninety, gotta get there and hold him
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| If we can make it across the state line then baby, we’re golden
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| Let the law pronounce its petty assertions
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| They’ve been outsmarted by a couple of urchins
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| And they hurt you bad, man
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| They hurt me too
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| But I’m not about to sit here and watch as they
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| Suck the blood from my wound
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| They suck the blood from my wound
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| Suck the blood from my wound
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| Suck the blood from my wound
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| Ohh man
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| Wrap half the money in your hospital garment
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| We’ll stash the rest inside the red Camaro’s secret compartment
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| Even the deepest wounds will heal over time
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| I’ll run my fingers over your scars and yours over mine
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| They’ll never find us if we turn off our phones
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| We’re off the grid, we’re off our meds
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| We’re finally out on our own
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| Now I see color coming back in your cheeks
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| Angel, don’t fight it
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| To them you know we’ll always be freaks
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| To them we’ll always be freaks
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| We’ll always
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| Park for the night northwest of Baton Rouge
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| Across the parking lot you’re stretching the one wing you can move
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| I let you walk as long as fear will allow
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| I’ve never loved you more than I love you now
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| And then we’re back on the road before the sun’s even up
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| We’re making time, we’re making progress
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| But progress towards what?
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| Your fallen feathers fill up two shopping bags
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| The future’s breathing down the neck of the past
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| And the sun throws a shit-eating shine on the moon
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| And I’m not about to wait for them to come
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| Suck the blood from my wound
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| Suck the blood from my wound
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| Suck the blood from my wound
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| Suck the blood from my wound
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| A plague on both your houses
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| A plague on both your houses |