| The lane next over is always faster
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| And you wait so long until you’re so bothered
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| But right after you complete your merge
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| The lane you started in gets going
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| And while you wait for your luck to change
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| All you can think of is where you started
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| You don’t like anything on local radio
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| So you fumble around 'til you land on NPR
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| And listen to world news
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| Well, a bomb went off in the parking lot
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| Of a newly opened sunni marketplace
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| And a cloud covers your car at just the right time
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| For you to see the dark on your face in the mirror
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| Your phone goes off with a picture of your mother
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| It’s five to six, and she can’t find your brother
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| And while normally you’d yell and scream,
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| Instructing her to go and find him on her own
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| But calmly you’re exiting,
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| And telling her that you are headed on your way home
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| She does not know what to say,
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| Just glad you’re on your way home
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| You turn off your phone in a different tone
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| As you think,
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| The bad feeling so bad makes the good so good |