| Let’s sing a song about smoke and flames
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| That burnt down our lazy yesterdays
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| Let’s pretend this poverty is fine
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| And sit on our front porches like we do it all the time
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| Go!
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| Out on these mean streets it’s all the same
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| I watch my shoes while they take me on my way
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| And I step to the beat everywhere I go
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| All the televisions screaming out these windows
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| And we’re just waiting for the end
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| When the bell tolls I’ll be fine
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| They say that living is a lot like dying
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| When the bell tolls I’ll be fine
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| They say living is a lot like dying
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| A lot like dying
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| All the buzzards are circling overhead
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| Nobody’s crying cause we’re already dead
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| I sold my days off, now I sit around
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| Like every other waste of space living in this town
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| This is the only chance we have
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| When the bell tolls I’ll be fine
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| They say that living is a lot like dying
|
| When the bell tolls I’ll be fine
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| They say living is a lot like dying
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| A lot like dying
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| Your Jesus, he cannot save you this time
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| Your precious savior is laughing while you die
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| When the bell tolls I’ll be fine
|
| They say that living is a lot like dying
|
| When the bell tolls I’ll be fine
|
| They say living is a lot like dying
|
| When the bell tolls I’ll be fine
|
| They say that living is a lot like dying
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| Your Jesus savior won’t save you this time
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| Your precious savior is laughing while we die |