| Yeah, you can smell it in air …
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| Frustration, you know, like no one cares
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| We’ve forgotten how to dream
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| When they come scraping through the wreckage and leave it all for saints to
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| sanctify
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| You’ll be dancing… at the edge of the world
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| Now read the headlines, What a sleeper
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| Now I ain’t Ghandi and I ain’t no teacher
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| But it’s all the rage with my generation, I’m doped up fat, can’t get it up
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| Gimmie another shot I’ll be fine. |
| I’ll be fine
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| Some one’s kicking in your door and you’re screaming for the more
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| Dancing at the edge. |
| Yeah you’re just going to take it?
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| Ain’t going to make me bow my head. |
| Dancing at the edge!
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| Time to listen, cards close
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| Time to look at what’s behind closed doors
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| Got gasoline, ammunition, like 911, a controlled demolition
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| «Come to Jesus», they say. |
| «Don't be a sinner»
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| They chose a mad man to be our leader
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| Now where’s the rage? |
| My generation, doped up fat
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| Can’t get it up. |
| Gimmie another shot!!! |
| I’ll be fine
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| Campaign promises. |
| No one’s buying it
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| How much can you take before your back breaks?
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| Now where’s your rage?
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| My generation, doped up fat, can’t get it up
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| Gimmie another shot!!! |
| Gimmie another shot!!! |