| I left my girl in vacation land,
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| Now Virginia’s barns burn back road memories red
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| into my skin Like the southern sun.
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| I left the trees for the towers,
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| The woods for the wealth,
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| The streams for the streets, my friends for myself.
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| It was a bad fucking idea.
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| But we still sing… Ohh ohhh ohhh
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| I learned it, I lived it, and now I’m gonna leave,
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| but I won’t regret it,
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| It’s just that New York City is not my friend.
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| I just wanna go somewhere where I can rest my head
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| Where the streets are on fire, not just smoldering, somewhere like Atlanta.
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| Well the streets aren’t on fire just yet,
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| but were lighting a motherfucking match.
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| It wouldn’t sink in, and so I tried,
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| But everything that was real Just squeezed out the side,
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| When I closed my eyes real tight.
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| I’m in the city that never sleeps… And I’m fucking tired.
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| All of the colors that rained down
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| from the sky might as well have been explosions
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| On the inside, that night before the fourth of July,
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| By the naval yard on the New Hampshire side.
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| Jason played in the park, while I fumbled on my acoustic guitar behind a red |
| door.
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| But we both sang ohh ohhhh ohhhh |