| Shuddering brakes on the road to Jerusalem
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| It’s so easy to drift when your eyes are so tired
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| And in the rush to the scene you are one of the millions
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| In a dirty old town that some killing made holy
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| Crying, give us the last rites
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| Or give us our dreaming
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| Or give us the thunder’s rolling--ah!
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| Well, look around, old friend
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| Nothing is laid to rest
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| It just grows unattended
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| And you’ve been a long time away
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| A break in the clouds like in a crack in a cylinder
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| But now there’s blood on the beach and a wreck in the water
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| And as the shadow arrives on the face of your innocence
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| You feel the shock in your eyes and the shaking in your own hands
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| And look around, old friend
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| You live under house arrest
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| And you sleep undefended
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| And you’ve been a long time away
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| Riding a wild life
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| But you let go of the reins
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| And you answer to me now
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| And you’ve been a long time away
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| And it never goes dark
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| Under these lights
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| It never goes cold
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| Under fire
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| Bring the drums
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| Bring the lights
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| Bring the wires |