| I’m like a record player
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| I keep goin' round
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| with a needle in my arm
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| making someone else’s sound
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| and lately I’ve been dreaming
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| of blue and empty skies
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| but nothing like that ever
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| crosses red and weary eyes
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| I’ve been traveling with bottles
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| working close with cans
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| sitting up forever with my best friends in a van
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| They’ve been saying «just a living»
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| but I don’t know what they mean
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| cuz I don’t think they’ll ever be looking live to me
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| it’s the only game that I know how to play
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| The time, the time, to say goodbye
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| passed us long ago.
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| and I would say I (we've) overstayed
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| my welcome but you know
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| I don’t think I’m (we're) ever going home
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| I don’t need a doctor
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| cuz anyone can see
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| that I had all of these shots
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| and I am still sick as I can be
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| I think I need to rest my eyes
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| so baby come with me
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| lay down here beside me
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| keep me warm while I sleep
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| There’s trouble on the way
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| huh! |
| you poised to leave?
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| there always is and will
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| sit and have a drink with me
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| where we go all we got is these days that we made
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| but I don’t wanna waste them being wistful or afraid
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| Without all of you I’d be even lower down
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| You know what I want to say but I can’t get it out
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| The time, the time, to say goodbye
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| passed us long ago.
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| and I would say we’ve overstayed
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| my welcome but you know
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| I don’t think we’re ever going home
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| I don’t think we’re ever going home, oh no! |