| I’m feeling rough, I’m feeling raw
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| I’m in the prime of my life
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| Let’s make some music, make some money
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| Find some models for wives
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| I’ll move to Paris, shoot some heroin
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| And fuck with the stars
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| You man the island and the cocaine
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| And the elegant cars
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| This is our decision, to live fast and die young
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| We’ve got the vision, now let’s have some fun, uh-uh
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| Yeah, it’s overwhelming, but what else can we do?
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| Get jobs in offices and wake up for the morning commute?
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| Forget about our mothers and our friends
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| We were fated to pretend, to pretend
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| We’re fated to pretend, to pretend
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| I’ll miss the playgrounds
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| And the animals and diggin' up worms
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| I’ll miss the comfort of my mother
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| And the weight of the world
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| I’ll miss my sister, miss my father
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| Miss my dog and my home
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| Yeah, I’ll miss the boredom and the freedom
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| And the time spent alone
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| But there is really nothing, nothing we can do
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| Love must be forgotten, life can always start up anew
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| The models will have children, we’ll get a divorce
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| We’ll find some more models, everything must run its course
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| We’ll choke on our vomit and that will be the end
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| We were fated to pretend, to pretend
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| We’re fated to pretend, to pretend
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| I said yeah, yeah, yeah
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| Yeah, yeah, yeah
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| Yeah, yeah, yeah
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| Yeah, yeah, yeah |