| Where’s the wind, today of all days
|
| Raise my hand again
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| 20 something, something’s running late
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| Still trying out to make it in
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| Neither of us saw the wind leaving
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| Maybe we don’t see it coming back
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| Curse the names of all the places where I’m not
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| So you can’t ask me where I’m at
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| They’re not so easily unmade
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| Graph paper glory days
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| There’s that cross, holstered at your hip
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| And not so steady hands
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| High noon or maybe low six
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| Tell me where you think it stands
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| The drugs don’t help you shield
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| The drugs don’t help you cope
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| It’s not the perfect fix but a pencil maze of hope
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| That you swear you’re quitting
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| They’re not so easily unmade
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| Graph paper glory days
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| I can’t just throw them all away
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| Cuz they don’t come back the same
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| You don’t have to paint the picture with kid gloves
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| It’s a true, it’s true I only hope for success but
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| I am living for cheap love
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| I’m living for cheap love
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| It’s vague but it’s love |