| My life’s these yellow lines, concrete, and parliament butts
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| Exhaust fumes and rest stops who drive hard for their bucks
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| Load in, sound check, play show, load out, let’s go, next city, oh great,
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| off day
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| Hangovers, hangups, dialbacks, running make up, apologies and promises
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| And nobody acknowledges that boys in bands got it so damn bad
|
| But we love like the last cigarette we’ll ever have
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| I’m putting miles on my body, bout due for a tune up and this gas station food
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| ain’t really helping but
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| I’m loving every minute, every road sign’s a reminder of exactly why we did it
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| to begin with
|
| This is how it has to be
|
| A kiss for luck, submerge myself
|
| And in 7 weeks resurface
|
| Even if we don’t look back again
|
| Tired boys and wired eyes
|
| Exposing imperfections
|
| To the public eye we’re perfect
|
| Even if we don’t look back again
|
| I like these hotels, passports, random bag checks, day dreams of love affairs
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| that I haven’t had yet
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| Touch down, baggage claim, new town, different dame, same clothes, 7 days, whew,
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| damn I need to change
|
| And it’s a lifestyle that I wouldn’t recommend
|
| Wild 'N Out on a level Nick Cannon couldn’t comprehend (fuck outta here)
|
| We made a lot of friends and even more enemies
|
| Some of which were genuine and others just pretend to be
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| It’s all gravy baby, life’s lovely
|
| Even when the gray rain cloud’s right above me
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| The girl’s textin' me talkin' about gettin' all cuddly
|
| Cause you paint a pretty picture but the frame is so ugly
|
| This is how it has to be
|
| A kiss for luck, submerge myself
|
| And in 7 weeks resurface
|
| Even if we don’t look back again
|
| Tired boys and wired eyes
|
| Exposing imperfections
|
| To the public eye we’re perfect
|
| Even if we don’t look back again
|
| And now it’s back in a van with four of my mans
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| Until we catchin' a tan on the Florida sands
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| I feel like tourin' this land’s made me more of a man
|
| From killa California to the shores of Japan
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| Good times stayin' up late in Austin
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| Coast to coast VA to Chicago
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| To gettin' up with Johnny Cupcakes in Boston
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| And smokin' the most grade A in Colorado
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| Home ain’t home no more
|
| I hug the road and kiss the concrete and sometimes I even hear her heartbeat
|
| No matter where we go or where we at
|
| We carry upstate on our back, it’s like that
|
| This is how it has to be
|
| A kiss for luck, submerge myself
|
| And in 7 weeks resurface
|
| Even if we don’t look back again
|
| Tired boys and wired eyes
|
| Exposing imperfections
|
| To the public eye we’re perfect
|
| Even if we don’t look back again
|
| This is how it has to be
|
| A kiss for luck, submerge myself
|
| And in 7 weeks resurface
|
| Even if we don’t look back again
|
| Tired boys and wired eyes
|
| Exposing imperfections
|
| To the public eye we’re perfect
|
| Even if we don’t look back again
|
| «So a lot of you don’t realize
|
| There’s a whole subculture of boys driving around in vans.»
|
| Even if we don’t look back again
|
| «Looking for your daughters, and your lottery tickets. |
| Love it or leave it.
|
| I’m like this»
|
| Even if we don’t look back again
|
| «I love my life. |
| Bitches.»
|
| Even if we don’t look back again
|
| Even if we don’t look back again |