| Won’t you take me back to Texas, where the parking lots are home
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| Won’t you take me back to Texas, where it’s warm
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| Do you remember the edges of october? |
| (so for something to be made the fly?)??
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| The sum of our hangovers laid out before us, stretched to where the desert
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| touches sky
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| In flashes of sleep deprivation, the orders collapsed and the borders are missed
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| But i swear i’ve never been so far from home
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| For every one who’s names we lost or were too drunk or tired to ask
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| Oh dispossessed house-guest, we ghosted the midwest
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| and settled where the desert touches sky
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| In flashes of sleep deprivation, the orders collapsed and the borders are missed
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| But i swear i’ve never been so far from home
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| (I've nevaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa)
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| But i swear i’ve never been so
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| Far from home i swear i’ve never been
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| It’s a milestone i’m sure
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| With the parents screaming murder in the hall
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| Martyrs spraying shadows on the lawn
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| Of the colour Kodak new
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| Is this magic? |
| Is this heaven for you?
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| You think
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| The world’s just gonna' fall into yr arms
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| Like so many free drinks bought by strangers in strange bars (I could go on)
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| Well if you faked yr way this far, then compromise seems, er, unromantic!
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| (I could go on)
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| Clutch yr last years festival wristbands like medals from a war you think you
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| think you fought
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| Well honey, you could cut diamonds on those lips, and that dreads a short stay
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| for a steed, and you still lost
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| I could go on, i could go on, I COULD GO ON!
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| Hanging branches off yr stories
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| And its not like I don’t think yr a cheat when they’ve all got the same plot
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| You get the badges, you get the booze and then you get the boys
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| I could go on!
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| Johnny foreigner, the mandy morbid of indie rock
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| Never got the cash for flights but we’ve sure seen a lot of cock
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| We’ve been aiming shots on our blogs and hope to god we’re still hot
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| Cause between you, and us, and her? |
| I think that’s all we’ve got. |