| The girls on the streets look all sad in this gold encrusted little town
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| Why is that? |
| Isn’t this the town of dreams?
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| Yeah, but it comes with a price
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| It’s a town that never does anything and takes all the credit
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| A place that promises so much and never has a thing to say
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| Or a care in the world
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| There is no memory here
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| No dream for itself but the dreams of others
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| And all over the world you talk about a place you’ve only seen in the re-runs
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| Immortalized by its vice and deified for its carnage
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| There’s money in the air there
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| All you have to do is reach up and grab it.
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| In basements, garages, parking lots, empty lots, school yards, town cars,
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| Back rooms and more…
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| Diamonds are fashioned from expectations and fortified on a steady diet,
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| Of simple lives and red carpets
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| The ejaculating zeitgeist in night vision
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| Culture is a punch line in a motionless blood in the water
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| The sharks here play games you can’t fathom
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| But you flock here anyway
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| On college money and credit cards
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| Spend a week bullshitting yourself that it was all true,
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| All of it…
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| Just to watch in horror as it all falls into pieces into the gravity of reality
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| The starry eyes fade as it dawns on you,
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| Nothing is guaranteed
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| You are a part of the great divide, the chosen, or the frozen
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| Now your miles away without an egg,
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| Your college money is a collage of debt
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| And your credit cards are all snapped in fucking half.
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| Time to wander a landscape in berethed of mercy
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| This is now the back lot of your failed movie
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| A waking dream re-written without your permission
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| The real luster, the soft focus, the soap opera vision
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| Is just the hindsight of a world who’s just been lied to Of sad surfs, and untouchable lords
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| You took a chance didn’t you?
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| The chance didn’t have a par for you this time around
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| Maybe next life.
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| And you can’t even walk home
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| The girls on the street all look sad in this cardboard cut-out little town
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| No wonder, that’s the only thing here that’s real
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| The gold is for fools and paradise is lost
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| But the hungry have never bothered with the cost
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| Day by day they fall away like rose petals
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| Like ink that won’t dry or fade
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| It just runs wild down cracks and crevices, grooves and folds
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| So I hope someone saves you, before you get cold
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| I really do.
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| Because the girls are on set in this little black book
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| If you don’t believe me take a closer look.
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| If you can. |