| Please don’t wake your mother up
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| Tell her where to go, you know it’s wrong
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| You can find direction from
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| Wagons on the road you know are lost
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| Or you could hang around
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| Show me this town from the underground
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| Or you could hang around
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| Pushing corn
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| When the bones of shade are different than of that before
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| The approach you take, dead on the kitchen floor
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| Shakes will come, drugs that you know are wrong
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| When we’re done there’s nothing that we can’t control
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| We have got technology
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| I promise it will get you off
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| But it won’t take you back to your former self
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| Back to a form of self
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| Back where I could hang around
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| Leaving underground
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| I all really need to know
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| Of how your god it was so low
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| And your all your friends, oh they won’t help you now
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| Or you could hang around
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| Digging underground
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| For all you really need to know
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| Of how your god it was so low
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| And your all your friends, they’ll be on your side now
|
| When the bones of shade are different than of that before
|
| The approach you take, dead on the kitchen floor
|
| Shakes will come, drugs that you know are wrong
|
| When we’re done there’s nothing that we can’t control
|
| And when we’re done there’s nothing that we can’t control |