| All the dangerous games you played out after dark
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| They never asked, or forced to hold you down
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| In the chamber where you built all those radios
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| In the years that passed from forty one to forty five
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| And the neighbours asked you to take those antennas down
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| Those are eyesores, eyesores
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| Left in, in-between the wars
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| You aren’t even who you said you are
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| All the sporting goods you once sold on Mondays
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| All the bolts and balls couldn’t satisfy your interest
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| All the things you tried but that remind you of the day
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| When you went around defusing bombs
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| Changing into costume to follow all the criminals in the land
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| Who’d ever thought you’d join a band
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| You aren’t even who you said you are
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| And you lied to me, you aren’t even who you said you are
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| When you went around defusing bombs
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| Changing into costume to follow all the criminals in the land
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| Who’d ever thought you’d join a band |