| Extreme close-up, paint-stained Nautica shorts
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| Three polo caps walking towards me
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| Town hall the backdrop, platform one
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| Five o’clock, so the transit madness has begun
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| I got Bloc Party in my headphones
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| Rubbing shoulders with the A-list strangers till I get home
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| When I spot the a-likes, so I turn it down a bit
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| Just to catch these kids swagger on some «Me Against the World» shit
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| They’re mean mugging at the guards
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| Bragging how they smashing back carriages and crushing in the yards
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| And I can’t help but smile as they walk right past me
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| For all the days when I mighta known who they are
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| See I used to fight for that army, no longer sport the uniform
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| But true to form I scribble words on paper all day
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| Old habits die hard
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| Same reason that I’m travelling without a valid ticket or concession card
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| Train enters stage right, all stations
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| We cross the yellow line like we running out of patience
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| Make it inside and find that all the seats are taken
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| «Shit, it’s gonna be a long ride»
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| But I’m homeward bound, grab a quick look at those around me
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| Same faces, different day in this ghost town
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| Kings and pawns side by side
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| Modern day slave ship for the nine-to-five nation
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| Daily grind ritual
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| Each rides with their own private soundtrack to the same visual
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| Heads buried in MX, we move in silence
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| Too afraid to interact with the people beside us
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| Passing through the next stop, see two transit cops
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| And they giving out fines if you get outta line
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| Grey dog scare tactics, man I hate that shit
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| But I bite my lip and ride into the evening sky
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| When we hit my sector you can rest assured
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| That I’ma be the first to make it out those sliding doors
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| Down the stairs and exit the station
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| Posted up at some traffic lights patiently waiting
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| Looking at the local where I poured drinks for a while
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| Had to leave 'cause the booze hounds were killing the smile
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| But I still check the windows when I walk past
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| Keeping tabs on which faction’s on the warpath
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| Up next on the left is the local skate park
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| Watching the sun set to the west as the trains past
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| The colour of dusk burns over the train line
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| No matter where I roam ain’t nowhere like Mainline
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| It’s just another day in paradise, think to myself
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| As the underages gather with the parasites
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| Moving on, passing new apartment blocks
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| It’s funny how we so advanced now that we live in boxes
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| Take the next left, walk up the street
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| Check the mail, but as usual there’s none for me
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| And the first thing I did when I made it inside
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| Picked up my pen and pad, started writing this rhyme |