| Look a gift horse in the mouth go get a job
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| Last best deal I ever got was a quarter for a beer on the quad
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| Nevilles singing on a makeshift stage you sittin' on a towel in the shade
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| Came from a foreign town and you smoked a joint with Jackson Browne
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| What if my pain won’t deliver me
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| What if my stasis crushes me with boredom
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| If I read into everything you say to me
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| I will never get the meaning of your words like when you wrote them
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| When we were writers when we were fighters
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| Before we found purpose and made deals with God
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| Let’s pull an all nighter push wood in the fire
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| It might just look like smoke in my eyes but I’m still burning inside
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| Some sailed the calmer seas serial monogamy
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| Best trip I ever took was on the ship that I wrecked and how I got set free
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| Strange boy in the Vegas summer
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| Dancing by the pool to a different drummer
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| Maybe a heat mirage or a message in camouflage
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| What if I thought that the best of me
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| Spending my days doing just fine
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| To short change my true full capacity
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| And recognize it just when I was running out of time
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| When we were writers we were igniters
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| Blisters to callus to scars from the war
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| The sentence gets tighter the impact grows wider
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| When nothing is wasted nor chances denied
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| I’ve had my day in the sun that’s no lie
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| But I’m still burning inside
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| The slings and arrows the passage narrows
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| The story harrowing the word becomes flesh
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| Wrestle the beast that leaves you diminished
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| It’s alright you will never be finished
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| When you’re a writer when you’re a fighter
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| Easy to be cruel, better to be kind
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| Plow through the stalks of your heart’s tinder box
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| Flint to the rock and you’ll find you’re still burning inside
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| When we were writers
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| I’m still burning inside
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| When we were writers |