| When the Kingdom comes he puts the records on
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| and with his blistered thumb hits play
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| and with the volume up he goes and fills his cup
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| and lets the drummer drum take away the pain, the pain
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| Breaking, forsaken, what’s that you’re taken?
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| Bleeding the feeling, he lets the records play
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| I should the future dim
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| The cigarette light’s in
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| the vaporizer green light grim
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| and when the shot glass talks he goes to listens up
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| until he’s nice and numb again, again
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| Shaken, the breaking, not one for faking
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| the reeling is healing, he lets the records play,
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| there’s wisdom in his ways
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| I’ve been down and I fell so hard and far from grace
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| I’ve been hurt and I still recall the flaws on her face
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| I’ve been off but I’m up on my feet, my feet again
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| Shaken, forsaken, what’s that you’re taking?
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| Oh! |
| The weeding, the feeling, he lets the records play
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| Shaken but breaking, not one for faking oh!
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| the reeling is healing, he lets the records play!
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| Oh, there’s wisdom in his ways |