| This one goes out to Gemma Evans and my vague attempts to tie threads together
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| Swapping stories and signing napkins in a bar in Tokyo
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| Shibuya sleeps as Solihull weeps for the coke in the clubs and the fights on
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| the street
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| Every exit feels like retreat, I’m just glad we both escaped
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| (And we can talk about it.)
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| Oh you can keep those days
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| Remind me why I couldn’t stay
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| How quickly the resentment fades, when you know yr never coming back here
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| You can always trust those Solihull girls to walk out when the timing’s bad
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| And there’s never a good time, never a good time
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| Says something when those Solihull girls are complaining that our bands all
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| sound like…
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| A copy of a copy of a copy of a copy of a copy of a copy of a copy of a copy of
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| a copy of a copy of a copy
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| So this one goes out to some kids in Snobs, still fighting the floor when the
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| battle’s are lost
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| Every playlist came with a cost; |
| you got the Peace that you deserved
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| So give me a scene that can carry it’s weight, or give me a scene that’ll give
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| it me straight
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| Wait, no
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| Give me a scene where the hype comes last, and a night bus that just comes
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| (And they’ll talk about us)
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| So you can keep those nights
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| This war you think you have to fight
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| How easily the guilt subsides, when you know yr never coming back here |