| High school summer vacation
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| On heavy rotation
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| It spills through broken PA speakers
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| We are all older now
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| And the same things get us going
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| At least I can admit it
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| The best years of our lives
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| Were spent in some stranger’s basement
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| Medley made of empty cans and exes
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| And that radical romantic conversation
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| About how we are like mutants
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| Who found each other by chance through rock n roll music
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| Clenched fist, eyes wild
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| Scream over the records, you artfully compiled
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| While I put my bad faith into practice
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| Sit at home on Saturday night
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| Ease into my false sense of superiority
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| No art degree, no conservatory
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| Just Katie and me
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| And whatever we are drinking
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| To diminish our diplomacy
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| If you can’t appreciate the art
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| Appreciate the air conditioning
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| High school dance with me baby
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| I gave it all up
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| Baby, I slipped away before your grasp was too tight
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| We’re both older now
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| But you still let the music determine how you feel
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| Any given night
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| Watch you sway in your dress, say, «I'm ruining your life.»
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| And say, «You are not like the others
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| You’ll practice, you’ll change
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| Unlearn a toxic pattern with zero effort made.»
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| Well I haggled and for just a moment
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| It’s a beautiful idea
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| But hopelessness brings consistency
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| And the disappointment, it isn’t surprising
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| So never swoon
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| You sing songs to clean your fingernails to
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| And your letters read and write and seek out the guillotine |