| I’m living it up in a back stage room
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| Chasing the sleep from exhausted eyes
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| Each moment enthroned and paraded through streets
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| We wave and we scream as it passes by
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| Can’t reconcile the life I knew
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| The forgotten basement ignored nights
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| Holding signs on the corners «so hungry will work»
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| Watching eyes fast divert and then drive on by
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| The trees always falling in silence
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| No crash, no bang just an emptiness
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| The trucks drive away with trunks tied down, secured
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| To bring back a little of the forest
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| That’s how it’s going to go
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| As long as we keep on building
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| I just pack my bags and leave
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| Losing my grip of a back stage room
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| As habit devours and colors die
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| Chasing the moments through blockaded streets
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| I beg and I plead, oh god don’t pass me by
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| Can’t you just move in and stay
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| The streetlights give as the brighter sun arrives
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| The past night slips to the memory’s broken drives
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| With all the roads we will never again
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| Walk down strange and foreign
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| But there’s hope just over the edge of the horizon
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| I’ll find a home in these back stage rooms
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| But never get used to the passing time |