| While Kansas city sleeps
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| Cloaked in the twilight of this valley
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| At this church is lined with
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| Roadside poetry
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| I could to the most desolate seclusions
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| My blackest secrets still imprison me And why don’t we say what we really feel?
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| Whenever things are at their best…
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| Whatever lies will help you rest
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| Whenever things are at their best…
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| Why do we wait for it to fall apart?
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| Fall apart
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| Waking to the after-taste
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| Of cheap wine and bad decisions
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| My heart trembles in this morning glare
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| I could shield my eyes
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| From these inner most seductions
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| But still somehow you’ll find me there
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| And why don’t we say what we really feel?
|
| Whenever things are at their best…
|
| Whatever lies will help you rest
|
| Whenever things are at their best…
|
| Why do we wait for it to fall apart?
|
| And it’s probably safe to say
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| I’m not the world safest bet
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| I’ve never been too good at being good
|
| And its probably safe to say…
|
| Whenever things are at their best…
|
| Whatever lies will help you rest
|
| Whenever things are at their best…
|
| Why do we wait for it to fall apart?
|
| Whenever things are at their best…
|
| Whatever lies will help you rest
|
| Whenever things are at their best…
|
| Why do we wait for it to fall apart? |