| That night that you got on a plane to Los Angeles
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| I turned back into the me that I was
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| That guy that would go out to buy a new porno
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| And come back with twenty, the pervert you love
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| And as I drove I remembered that you made a tape
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| For me to play if I ever had a lonely day
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| I slipped it in and the Stereophonics came on singing about music
|
| Well, at least someone still believes in the melody
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| I, I think that I’ve heard it already but I
|
| I think that I must admit that as bad as it gets
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| Someone still believes
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| The sound of American radio’s making me feel like
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| I just killed my mom and my dad
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| These pop songs are meant to be simple
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| So people who make them
|
| We take them and break them in half
|
| And as I drove I remembered that you made a tape
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| For me to play if I my ears were ever being raped
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| I slipped it in and the Tragically Hip came on singing about music
|
| Well, at least someone still believes in the melody
|
| I, I think that I’ve heard it already but I
|
| I think that I must admit that as bad as it gets
|
| Someone still believes
|
| Well, at least someone still believes in the melody
|
| I, I think that I’ve heard it already but I
|
| I think that I must admit that as bad as it gets
|
| Someone still believes in the melody
|
| I, I think that I’ve heard it already but I
|
| I think that I must admit
|
| Someone still believes in the melody
|
| I, I think that I’ve heard it already but I
|
| I think that I must admit |