| Gave it all away, blood or song
|
| And there’s nothing left, used to be someone
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| Never really die, live in magazines and on the radio
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| Hasbeen demi-god
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| Pro false idol
|
| Pro false idol
|
| Pro false idol come pray
|
| Burned a ton of dough, no self-pride
|
| Used to run now crawl, half-tweaked and fried
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| And you’re not the same, like rusted chrome, relive glory days
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| Ignore your empty life
|
| Pro false idol
|
| Pro false idol
|
| Pro false idol come pray
|
| Big tipper let the meter run
|
| Yellow taxi try to beat the sun
|
| New York City see the worshippers
|
| Hotel autograph solicitors
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| Infrequent sex, lie down with whores
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| Sleep the day away, freak boy roll on
|
| Pro false idol
|
| Pro false idol
|
| Pro false idol come pray
|
| Big tipper let the meter run
|
| Yellow taxi try to beat the sun
|
| New York City see the worshippers
|
| Hotel autograph solicitors |