| Every day the bus comes and I start to lose it
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| All the other kids stop making out when I sit down
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| Staring at the TV in his socks, she leans in
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| Tying up her bathrobe in the dark of the early morning
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| Blow my breath out on the window
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| Use a finger to fill in
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| The frame with shapes I know
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| The road is slick with snow
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| And the grocery store is closed
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| Yuppies in the prefabs holding hands at midnight
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| Fuckers in their fast cars trading head by moonlight
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| Finger in the buck, knife in my bag from granddad
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| Jacking up the rent all down my block, so I don’t feel that bad
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| Blow my breath out on the window
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| In the cruiser with the lights off
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| The station looks the same
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| The night clerk calls my name
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| And the phone accepts my change
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| Emily decides she’s staying home this evening
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| Mama doesn’t like that kind of lip, she’s steaming
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| Caught cutting up the dress Aunt Julie bought from Boscov’s
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| Back of daddy’s hand on Christmas Eve in the moonlit garage
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| Blows her breath out on the window
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| Use her finger to fill in
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| The frame with shapes she knows
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| The road is slick with snow
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| And the grocery store is closed |