| Well baby there are the ones, and then there is us.
|
| Who stumble mad through the night.
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| With the constellation.
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| Get it, Get in.
|
| Everybody wants some.
|
| You won’t be much different.
|
| We need deliverance!
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| Give us deliverance!
|
| Let’s rip off the bandage.
|
| Open our mouths like a wound.
|
| We can’t embrace the truth.
|
| I’m trying to tell you the grass isn’t always greener.
|
| I’m trying to tell you the grass isn’t always greener,
|
| From our side of the fence.
|
| Let’s all sing the tune.
|
| A declaration of the two
|
| And let’s all scream the song
|
| The melody to our cold arms
|
| Now rip off the bandage.
|
| Open our mouths like a wound.
|
| We can’t embrace the truth.
|
| I’m trying to tell you the grass isn’t always greener.
|
| I’m trying to tell you the grass isn’t always greener,
|
| From our side of the fence.
|
| Get real, get free.
|
| If you can live with yourself then the rest will proceed.
|
| Get real
|
| Let’s rip off the bandage.
|
| Open our mouths like a wound.
|
| We can’t embrace the truth.
|
| I’m trying to tell you the grass isn’t always greener.
|
| I’m trying to tell you the grass isn’t always greener,
|
| From our side of the fence. |