| Will I follow you down the line?
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| Will I follow you down the line?
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| Stepped off the the train and looked for Fruitvale signs
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| The January air it whips across my spine
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| Whoa, whoa
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| We’ve been suffering the six days since he died
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| I saw a picture of his mother as she cried
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| Go to where the people go We’ll dig some decent wine
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| And it burns hard and real
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| To feel his feel
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| They’re putting close to flame, an imaginary sun
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| A little boot heel down for a solitary gun
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| Dana punches his own face, it begs for mocking
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| Shouldn’t go lonely from a solitary gun
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| Oh, yeah
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| Shops saluted and the windows of open eyes
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| She said it’s emotional in here and it’s not nice
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| Will you be the bed for me when they set the world on fire
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| Just to see it burn
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| In a consolation urn
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| And my stomach turns to steel
|
| They’re putting close to flame, an imaginary sun
|
| A little boot heel down for a solitary gun
|
| This moment doesn’t happen every night
|
| Shouldn’t go lonely from a solitary gun
|
| This brother’s sister’s mother’s business is all gone
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| Stepped on her neck when we used to just sing songs
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| Whoa, whoa
|
| We’re setting close to flame, an imaginary sun
|
| A little boot heel down for a solitary gun
|
| This moment doesn’t happen every night
|
| Shouldn’t go lonely from a solitary gun
|
| Oh Oh, oh, oh Uh Oh
|
| Oh, oh, oh |