| real cool child
|
| I’m tryn’a make it to New Orleans
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| You know that I been out here runnin' wild
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| My daddy said I was a charmer
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| All I got is what is with me
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| Blood on my shirt and little box around my neck
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| And it’s a long way out the city
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| A crooked smile in spite of welts across my back
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| City limit is a panic
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| They only ever called me by my childhood name
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| It ain’t a life I’d call romantic
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| I guess I learned my lesson all the same:
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| Style is a losing game
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| I got no reason to go out tonight
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| I’ll probably find a darkened corner
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| Pretend it from on the ground
|
| You’ll probably say, «I could’a warned ya»
|
| All I got is what is with me
|
| Blood on my shirt and little box around my neck
|
| And it’s a long way out the city
|
| A crooked smile in spite of welts across my back
|
| City limit is a panic
|
| They wouldn’t even call me by my childhood name
|
| It ain’t a life I’d call romantic
|
| I finally I learned my lesson all the same:
|
| Style is a losing game
|
| crawling on the station floor
|
| Your mamma’s sufferin' a rebound
|
| There’s screamin' demons in the luggage line
|
| When they see me they put their heads down
|
| All I got is what is with me
|
| Blood on my shirt and little box around my neck
|
| And it’s a long way out the city
|
| A crooked smile in spite of welts across my back
|
| City limit is a panic
|
| They only ever called me by my childhood name
|
| It ain’t a life I’d call romantic
|
| I guess I learned my lesson all the same:
|
| Style is a losing game
|
| Style is a losing game
|
| Style is a losing game
|
| Style is a losing game |