| I want to be fearing something
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| I want to be steering something
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| I want to be hearing something
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| In my car
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| I want to be losing something
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| I want to be confusing something
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| I want to be using something
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| In my heart
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| Yeah, in my heart
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| But I just wait until the van
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| Pulls up to take me away
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| To that toilet bowl of sin
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| But here I’m turning twenty-seven soon
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| I never thought I’d still be
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| Shooting for the man on the moon
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| My eyes will never look so blue
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| Without you, I’d be through
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| I could always ruin something
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| If you’d ever give my phone a ring
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| At least I still think I can sing alright
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| So obsessed with what I seek
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| That you’re losing out on the weeks
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| Guess I’m still figuring out who I like
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| Oh, who I like
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| I’ve been losing a friend a week
|
| Trying to make a martyr out of me
|
| But here I’m turning twenty-seven soon
|
| I never thought I’d still be
|
| Shooting for the man on the moon
|
| My eyes will never look so blue
|
| Without you, I’d be through
|
| Yeah, I’d be through
|
| Well, I’d be through
|
| Yeah, I’d be through
|
| Well, I’d be through
|
| Yeah, I’d be through
|
| Well, I’d be through
|
| Yeah, I’d be through
|
| Well, I’d be through
|
| Yeah, I’d be through
|
| Well, I’d be through |