| Some Sunday morning
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| See you picking up the fun
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| Ticking down the last time
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| Before the credits run
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| The traffic isn’t moving or it’s moving awful slow
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| To the sound of you complaining
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| We got nowhere left to go
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| You need the drugs to make the stars come down
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| You need a drug to make you shine
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| You need the pills to take you home again
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| Don’t be so ladida, so ladida
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| You need the drugs
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| You need the drugs to make the stars come down
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| You need a drug to make you shine
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| You need the pills to take you home again
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| Don’t be so ladida, so ladida
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| All of your tomorrows are a dream I never had
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| Everything is broken, everything unsaid
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| But I see all your shadows running
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| Circles at my feet
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| And you’re making all the promises that
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| No one never keeps
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| You need the drugs to make the stars come down
|
| You need a drug to make you shine
|
| You need the pills to take you home again
|
| Don’t be so ladida, so ladida
|
| You need the drugs |