| Show me how it’s done
|
| You’re a salesman’s son
|
| Go down to the end of your street and melt into the star-spangled night
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| Catch a first class flight
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| They’ll take you to the edge of the world
|
| It’s flatter than the maps that they’ve drawn
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| When they own the law
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| They’ll trust you to the young like they wish they were
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| Cause they’ve been there
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| They know you
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| They like your kind
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| They’ll teach you who you are and they’ll sell you to yourself
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| Somewhere south of your neighborhood
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| There’s a chemical flavor
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| Not so far from your hotel
|
| The scenery is bringing you down
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| Somewhere south of your border
|
| Can you follow the order
|
| Like an ancient explorer
|
| They recognized your eyes and you still don’t know why
|
| When you see me wave
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| Don’t wave back
|
| I might not feel the need to explain what I mean
|
| It’s a dangerous dance
|
| But if I had the chance
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| I’d get you at the edge of the world
|
| It’s stranger than the stories you choose
|
| For the evening news
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| I never hear your name cause you write it all yourself
|
| At the edge of the world
|
| It’s a job done well
|
| They’ll shoot you for a look inside your shiny plastic shell
|
| Somewhere south of your neighborhood
|
| There’s a chemical flavor
|
| Not so far from your hotel
|
| The radio is casting a spell
|
| Somewhere south of your border
|
| Can you follow the order
|
| Like an ancient explorer
|
| They recognized your eyes and you still don’t know why
|
| When will you die for the last time in my dreams? |