| A little room on 7th street is getting cold
|
| And secrets sing like mescaline
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| They don’t get old
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| I saw a pattern on a blanket just the other day
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| It looked just like the pillow you threw away
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| You were like a zombie
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| When you told me what you did that day
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| And I drove out to the meadowlands
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| To throw our baby away
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| What time and snow couldn’t bury
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| Years of forgotten guilt
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| That little body’s calling, rising up From under a Jersey landfill
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| I just woke up the other night
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| And now I know what to do
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| I just woke up the other night girl
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| And now I know what to do
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| I guess I’ll see you in hell
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| A creature’s waitin’for a battle in the ancient swamp
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| Your pissing on the pyramids
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| Ain’t gonna move things along
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| So pack your scars and your makeup
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| And give your money to the poor
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| Cos you’ve been riding a twenty gauged ticket
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| Into reality’s door
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| The TV’s gone and you’ve been half an hour paid
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| And your punkrock band still sucks anyway
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| I was talking to Jesus through a hole in the floor
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| He said our time is up, we can’t stay anymore
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| No more
|
| A little room on 7th street is getting cold
|
| And secrets sing like mescaline
|
| They don’t get old
|
| I saw a pattern on a blanket just the other day
|
| It looked just like the pillow you threw away
|
| I just woke up the other night
|
| And now I know what to do
|
| I just woke up the other night girl
|
| And now I know what to do
|
| I guess I’ll see you in hell |