| I came upon a row of pretty houses
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| So still and secretive and nearly perfect
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| Said to myself «it may be worth it»
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| Thought to myself «maybe you’ll be worthy»
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| So I started to take the long way home
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| And in my mind I made the neighborhood my own
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| Started to save but I just owed too much dough
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| Ten odd years, down a different road
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| I’d left my city and I’d left my home
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| I found myself in that place again
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| Some kind of pretty little accident
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| It made me feel sick of being
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| Like I was old and convalescing
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| Gave me reasons to regret
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| Made me wanna forget
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| So I guess the grass is always greener
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| Where all the other homes are so much cleaner
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| The plumbing’s sound and the bills are no bother
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| The cars are fast and the weather’s a wonder
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| No, I’m never gonna take the long way home
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| I might stop to chew the scenery alone
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| But I won’t swallow it whole |