| i wanna be clean but i gotta get high
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| it’s good to be here so hard to come by
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| you bring pain 'cause you got game
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| and needles and pins a man can’t take
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| peaches living in niches
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| digging the scene like beautiful cliches
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| from these shapes of a gangster lean
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| ignoring wars on gasoline
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| our god’s on yearning and made to get high
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| god’s left hand wasn’t made to get by
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| got more highs left in me
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| and there’s more room in recovery
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| from evil states that strip all chrome
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| from marshall amps into broken homes
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| and borstal blues to countless clicks
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| that rhythm sticks to those classic cheques
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| steal your tears and drown your fears
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| all is clear in a glass of beer
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| peaches living in niches
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| digging the scene like beautiful cliches
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| you fill me with endorphins
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| and you star in magazines
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| we draw liquor from the mattress springs
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| it ain’t over till the last bell rings
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| got more highs you and me
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| and deluxe rooms in recovery |