| Find me at the street we hide
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| We’ll take a trip to the sunny side
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| Of the city with a knife that carves your luck
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| Make our way to the living noise
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| We sing our song to the Goldman boys
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| Who never had enough of anything
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| I was done with God
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| When people like you filled the heavens
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| Oh I’m done with it all
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| It’s people like you who kill the better every time
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| To the fields of the young and drowned
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| Where love is lost and another found
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| To face the grey big world in a week or two
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| But we don’t care, no we got our choice
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| And sing our song to the soldier toys
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| Who better forget soon whose side they’re on
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| I was done with God
|
| When people like you filled the heavens
|
| Oh I’m done with it all
|
| It’s people like you who kill the better every time
|
| And I ain’t waiting for another day
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| I ain’t waiting for another day
|
| I ain’t waiting for another day to go
|
| I was done with God
|
| When people like you filled the heavens
|
| Oh I’m done with it all
|
| It’s people like you who kill the better every time
|
| Every time
|
| Every time
|
| Every time
|
| It’s people like you who kill the better every time |