| I’m walkin' past liquor stores and immigrant homes…
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| Check into cash…
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| And men with eyes like ghosts.
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| As boys we were taught to dream in stacks and rows…
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| Cause to dream any bigger is to dig yourself a hole…
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| One bigger than you’re already in from the moment your life begins.
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| I’m soaked to the bone at Lawson Arms at 3 a.m.
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| This cold world has convinced me to betray myself again.
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| Some faceless men.
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| Shivering.
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| Betrayal.
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| I am one of them.
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| Never again.
|
| I feel the loneliness of the long distance runner now.
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| This sterility is rotting me out.
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| Can’t live in service.
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| I’m dropping out.
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| Dropping out of tomorrow morning’s white washed suburban schemes.
|
| Billboard
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| Masturbation:
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| Satisfaction Guaranteed.
|
| I am the 4 a.m.
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| Arcade Street white bloodshot witness.
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| I’m just another kid in the chorus.
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| An empty street corner prophet.
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| Grimy hands clawing at the gutter on the eve of letting go of crimes against my
|
| soul.
|
| They planted their seed…
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| But I won’t let them…
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| Won’t let them tear through me.
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| 'Cause I’m a real cool killer with a killer blow.
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| A lock-jawed apprentice to my guts of gold.
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| Plastic surgery to fit the mold.
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| They’ll get you when you’re ugly and you’re feeling alone.
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| In this modern life…
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| Cheap and disconnected…
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| Where there is a siege going on and the besieged will be the last to know
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| That the race we are running is a joke,
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| And I’m a dropout.
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| Drop-Out. |