| When you’re calling ain’t calling back to you
|
| I’ll be side stage, mouthing lines for you
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| Humiliated by age, terrified of youth
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| I got hope but my hope isn’t helping you
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| Spitting out guts from their gears
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| Draining our spleen over years
|
| Found myself with crossed fingers in the rubble there
|
| Wake up puddle eyed, sleeping in the suit
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| The truth is ugly, well I feel ugly too
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| We’ll be heroes on every barstool
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| Seeing double beats not seeing one of you
|
| Spitting out guts from their gears
|
| Draining our spleen over years
|
| Found myself with crossed fingers in the rubble there
|
| Well you stole the heart right out my chest
|
| Changed the words that I know best
|
| Found myself with crossed fingers in the rubble there
|
| Spitting out guts from their gears
|
| Draining our spleen over years
|
| Found myself with crossed fingers in the rubble there
|
| Well you stole the heart right out my chest
|
| Changed the words that I know best
|
| Found myself with crossed fingers in the rubble there |