| What a beautiful way to fake it
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| A sort of graceful defeat
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| We pound a pattern out on the pavement
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| We sound the siren out through the streets
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| Advance with perfect nonchalance
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| To the staccato of the rifle report
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| Don’t marvel at our confidence
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| It’s just bravado that a blindfold affords
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| You tell me that you wanna stop the war
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| But baby, you can’t dance if there’s no floor
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| Motion isn’t meaning
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| It’s just another drug
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| But it’s all we’ve got…
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| What a way to keep it together
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| A black box, a prescription for speed
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| We found a freeway that goes on forever
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| We drown the demon in the deep black sea
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| Shield your eyes
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| Keep running to the rhythm of the rifle repeating
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| Paralyzed
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| But I gotta keep movin' if I wanna keep breathing
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| You tell me that you wanna stop the war
|
| But baby, you can’t dance if there’s no floor
|
| Motion isn’t meaning
|
| It’s just another drug
|
| But it’s all we’ve got… we’ve got nowhere to go
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| I’ll take the knife or the easy chair
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| We are but gods for a moment
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| I’ll take the knife or the easy chair
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| We are but gods |