| You set it up since grammar school
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| Your faulty eye to bleeding through
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| Seen the cards would waste the youth
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| Oho, never see you coming at all
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| Oh, oh, no, never see you coming at all
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| Note to self, Monday, early morning
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| Sun rose through the sky, looking purple orange
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| Cool breeze gently whistles through the trees
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| So I listen to it speak, like it’s whispering to me
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| Feels like a new day, but really it’s dependin
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| Not on the way it starts but if it has a different ending
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| What happens after the shot, the force that forces you back
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| After the pops and after thought, but it happnes a lot
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| You settle up, it’s far away
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| As we climb across the shore
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| It used to be dark, it used to be dark
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| It used to be
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| Oh, we never seen it coming at all
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| No, no, we never seen it coming at all
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| They took, dopy to interogation
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| Cuffs on my brother bronx
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| Got me sitting like a sucker
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| I guess this is the border
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| On the road home looking out for signs for toronto
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| Or a drive through mcdonalds
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| We talk, words of encouragement, compassion and respect |
| When underneath was baggage and resent
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| So deep
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| We couldn’t wash it up out jackets with the soap peach
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| Couldn’t scrape it off our faces with the pro bleach
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| Many months later, when the dust settle
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| When the sky clear, when the cuts yellow
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| Got sick of looking at the bus schedule
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| Bronx, we ready for another one, wassup, hello
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| I’m out with book in los angeles to master the beliefs
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| And roll she left another heater on my answering machine
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| Yeah I flew here coach fin to fly home bizness
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| Waking up at 7:30 from the time zone difference
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| And I blow the cash upon me, but I owe my dad some money
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| And I owe my girl a night for all the time I’m out the country
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| I ain’t tryina die alone, talking to this dial tone
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| They pat me down and peerson but I’m here son
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| Finally home
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| It used to be dark, it used to be dark
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| It used to be
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| It used to be dark, it used to be dark
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| It used to be
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| Oh you never seen it coming at all
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| Oh, no, you never seen it coming at all
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| Tryina get home on this yellow brick road. |