| Typewriter tell me what year it was
|
| Typing to the rhythm of a century on the cusp
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| We were out there smoking on the sidewalks
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| We were lovers drinking to another song on the jukebox
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| Don’t kill all the beautiful things
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| I was searching for truth, in the dust of my days
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| I was so lost, and I was so young
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| Cinematic, I was cynical on the city bus
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| Literary wrote lyrics like I thought I was
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| We were sleeping racing for the future
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| Bicycle tires spinning revolution
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| Don’t kill all the beautiful things
|
| I was searching for truth, in the dust of my days
|
| I was so lost, and I was so young
|
| The city was sweating in the summer heat
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| I wrote melodies of regret to a deaf and empty street
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| I was so lonely it started to rain
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| The lightning and thunder were singing my name
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| I thought those songs could save me (x2)
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| Don’t kill all the beautiful things
|
| I was searching for truth, in the dust of my days
|
| I was so lost, and I was so young
|
| We were so lost, and we were so young
|
| Don’t kill all the beautiful things |