| Dry cicada shells
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| Move in the wind like you have bones
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| Walk on the road
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| Wait for the cars, don’t get hit
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| You sit and heal my hand
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| I know you’ve had trouble sleeping
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| Isn’t that always the way?
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| All my friends are the same
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| They sing, «What would I do for an ear or two?»
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| I’m alone in suburbia, alone just like you
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| While the back door’s swinging, no one wants to talk
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| So when the going gets tough, I dream of New York
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| I saw it on the TV, looks alright to me
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| I’m not alone
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| I know I’m not alone
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| I’m not alone
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| Dry cicada shell
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| Why did you stay home again?
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| You know they’re waiting for you
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| But I guess you were just waiting too
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| What would I do for a drink or two?
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| Something to drown out all the words I should use
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| While my right hand’s swinging into the back of your head
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| I knew at that moment, I should’ve stayed home in bed
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| But when the going gets tough, I don’t get embarrassed
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| I just close my dead eyes and I’ll dream of Paris
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| I saw it on the TV, looks alright to me
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| I’m not alone
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| I know I’m not alone
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| I’m not alone
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| The oldest of two, but the youngest at heart
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| You can trace my align in the black tire marks
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| Or out on the gutter where my head caved in
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| Or behind the tattoo shop, if you wanna hide your skin
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| I’m not ashamed, no, I’m not embarrassed
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| Well, some of us won’t make it to New York or Paris
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| I made my own here at home
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| Got it all wrong, stuck out in space
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| Watching the earth turn, like a disappointed face
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| There’s a boy in my bed, he keeps pointing at Hell
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| And I know that he means it, and you know as well
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| Me and you
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| If I can’t fix the world, I’ll fix you
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| If I can’t fix the world, I’ll fix you |