| The devil’s in the details, why ain’t ya lookin'?
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| I said the devil’s in the details, why ain’t ya lookin'? |
| Yeah
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| The devil’s in the details, why ain’t ya lookin'? |
| Why ain’t ya lookin
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| When all of your summer days pack up and run away
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| From the same underage stain of the younger days
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| No more cryin' 'cause the tumblin' thunder came
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| Better get used to the rumblin' hunger pains
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| There’s fireflies in the spider’s eyes
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| There’s Fireflies in the spider’s eyes
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| Fireflies in the spider’s eyes
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| And they spell «Crash landing» on the city’s tired sky
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| Heat pipes coughin', sweatin' exhausted
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| Pumpin' blood to te rhythm of a bed frame rockin'
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| Where’s autumn? |
| Frozen from a merciless winter
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| The fifth season: Regret, just ate my ego for dinner
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| I’m under cobweb corners full of moths and fruit flies
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| Belly of the burden where truth lies is too wide
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| The devil’s in the details, why ain’t ya lookin'?
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| The devil’s in the details, why ain’t ya lookin'?
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| I said the devil’s in the details, why ain’t ya lookin'?
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| I said the devil’s in the details, why ain’t ya lookin'? |
| Huh
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| The devil’s in the details, why ain’t ya lookin'?
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| Dancehall bass giving hell to my brick wall
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| Centipede’s giving me thick skin, it crawls
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| Pitfalls, marker’s mark, L-M-N-O-P
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| Drunk neighbors done lit a bonfire in the street
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| I didn’t wanna kill the praying mantis with a dust pan
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| Didn’t wanna hit the man living on crushed cans
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| Didn’t wanna piss on your portrait of proper
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| Didn’t wanna tell you that your lucky penny was copper
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| A real heart-stopper, spine-tingling freak fest
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| Smoke 'n' ash, broken glass
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| Let’s keep quiet, listen to the city, it talks
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| Or stay still, staring at the idiot box
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| We were rooftop gods controlling the stars
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| Hear the tension, hear the sounds, the police cars
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| Let’s laugh at the clown cast dancing on brown glass
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| I’m the hoping they drown fast as soon as the sounds pass
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| Dollar to my name is in my front pocket
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| 'Bout to put it on the counter baby, tell me to watch it
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| Foung a locket in the gutter with somebody’s mother
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| Guess they shouldn’t be expecting their loved one for supper
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| This city was built on metal pipes and guilt
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| We pay a monkey in a suit to pretend that he run it
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| We’re shit stains on a quilt, make love to the filth
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| We better leave, hon', i think i hear the fire trucks coming
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| The devil’s in the details, why ain’t ya listening?
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| The devil’s in the details, why ain’t ya listening?
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| The devil’s in the details, why ain’t ya listening?
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| The devil’s in the details, why ain’t ya lookin'? |
| Yeah
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| The devil’s in the details, why ain’t ya lookin'? |