| These four wheels feel like home to me
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| Enough with living broke at home and bank robberies
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| These faces I see and these fumes I breathe…
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| It’s proof enough this is where I want to be
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| These photographs tell a story of their own
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| Two fists, white knuckles on a microphone
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| These highway lines, these miles and miles
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| They breathe
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| It’s just begun and our broken backs are so cold
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| And these four wheels feel like home to me
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| These doors close and we’re chasing the sky
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| This chaos brews and keeps us alive
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| Why trade the world when the world is mine?
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| Why give up now when all we’ve got is time?
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| Looking through this broken glass, these dreams invade the ceiling
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| They could fall so fast but now we’re knee-deep in this shit
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| Oh make it last
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| A lifetime of wanting and waiting and deadly persuading
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| The volume’s too quiet now
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| These tires' tread mark a special occasion
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| And my ears haven’t stopped ringing out
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| As these notes are bellowed they’ll rip you apart
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| So let these flat chords just break your heart
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| And who the fuck said we were giving up?
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| Cause it’s just begun
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| It’s just begun and our broken backs are so cold
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| These four wheels feel like home to me
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| And I feel like I never want to go home
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| We could stop the world and we could tear it apart
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| These four wheels feel like home to me
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| They breathe |