| Walked through a club like I walk through a field
|
| I promise there’s nobody there
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| I’ve been in the front and stood in the back
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| To try and get a glimpse at their minds
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| Their heads in the clouds but their feet on the ground
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| I tell you they won’t fly away
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| With their head in the clouds but their feet on the ground
|
| I tell you they won’t fly away
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| Alter their styles don’t undo the laces, so nothing has really been changed
|
| Vary the words just keep all of the phrases, so all your songs are the same
|
| You might change the clouds but you can’t change your faces, the face is
|
| unchanged
|
| Growing forever old…
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| Oh they’re forever old…
|
| Growing forever old…
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| Always forever old…
|
| Looked in their eyes but I looked into glass
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| 'cause I swear that there’s nobody there
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| I’ve listened to words, listened to songs
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| But can’t hear just what’s been played
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| Their hearts follow something they don’t understand, I wonder if they’re here
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| at all
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| Their hearts follow one thing they can’t understand, I wonder if they really
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| care
|
| Emptier faces lead emptier lives
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| Yet even these shells have dreams
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| Look in the mirror do you see their faces, or is this not what it seems
|
| With your head in the clouds but your feet on the ground
|
| I tell you they won’t fly away
|
| Growing forever old…
|
| Oh they’re forever old…
|
| Growing forever old…
|
| Always forever old… |