| Madelyn, I share your hate for this world we’re in
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| But it makes me a better man
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| It’s an excuse that you make
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| Madelyn, I know you want to let the bottles in
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| I know you think that they’re all your friends
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| They’re lying straight to your face
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| I know about the devil in your bloodstream
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| I know that the ghosts still visit nightly
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| I know it must get lonely by the Chesapeake
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| And Madelyn, are you really afraid of death
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| Or do you just say it if it’s the right thing to say?
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| Madelyn, I know you’re safe where you lay your head
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| But if you wanted to come back, I’ve got a place you could stay
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| If I’m not doing right by my family
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| Then what’s the point of it anyway?
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| I don’t think there’s a god
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| I don’t think that there’s someone coming to save us
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| And I don’t think that’s the worst news of the day
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| I don’t think there’s a god
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| I don’t think that there’s someone coming to save me
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| And I don’t think that’s the worst news of the day
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| So Madelyn, I know how your cold scars turn purple
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| I know how the Irish goodbyes feel, I know where you’ve been
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| And Madelyn, you and I got this East Coast blood between us
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| It’s bitter and vitriolic, I know how it ends
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| If I’m not doing right by my family…
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| Oh, I’m not doing right by family |