| I watched the young girl on the tube
|
| Just fixing up her make-up
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| And I’m runbbing on my baggy eyes
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| Just trying har to wake up
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| She must not have had a mirror
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| 'casue on her phone she takes a picture of herself
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| Just to see if her make-up's straight
|
| I watched the young boy on the street
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| There in a pack all hoarding
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| His body language speaking volumes of his endless yearning
|
| And I know it’s driving him crazy
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| How much he wants that Mercedes
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| As they all look on in fear
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| 'cause they don’t know what he will do next
|
| And I know that this is how it is
|
| But I can’t reconcile myself with how i live
|
| And they say that it’s not where you’re from
|
| But where you’re at
|
| So, why do I wanna go
|
| Why do I wanna go back
|
| Advertising has us chasing bars and clothes
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| Working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don’t need
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| We’re the middle children of history, man
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| No purpose nor place
|
| We have no grat war, no great depression
|
| Our great depression, is our lives
|
| And I know that this is how it is
|
| But i can’t reconcile myself with how i live
|
| And they say that it’s not where you’re from
|
| But where you’re at
|
| So, why do I wanna go
|
| Why do I wanna go back
|
| (back, bck, back, back…) |