| I’ve been so many different places
|
| But I still ain’t seen a thing
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| Ten thousand miles straight own these thin white dotted lines
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| My eyes are starting to sting
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| We travel small town to big city to play our favorite dives
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| These are probably going to be the best days of our lives
|
| So here we go, back on the road again
|
| And wish me well, I’ve got no soul left to sell
|
| Although we may not have very much to show for it now
|
| At least we have these stories to tell
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| Yeah we’re definitely going to hell
|
| We’ve been stranded in the desert
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| Even had a broken heater in the cold
|
| We’re always waiting for another night to fall
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| These driving days, they seem so long
|
| Well these times ain’t always easy
|
| And our moneys running dry
|
| These are probably going to be the best days of our lives
|
| So here we go, back on the road again
|
| And wish me well, I’ve got no soul left to sell
|
| Although we may not have very much to show for it now
|
| At least we have these stories to tell
|
| Yeah we’re definitely going to hell
|
| So here’s to far off places
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| Here’s to the dotted line
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| And here’s to pretty faces
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| We leave so far behind
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| Good friends we won’t forget
|
| And This Prison cell we drive
|
| These are probably going to be the best days of our lives
|
| So here we go, back on the road again
|
| And wish me well, I’ve got no soul left to sell
|
| Although we may not have very much to show for it now
|
| At least we have these stories to tell
|
| We been on tour forever
|
| And this van it fucking smells
|
| We’re definitely going to hell |