| Disconnected from the gravel in the alleys
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| that taught our throats to sing,
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| I miss these streets and how they used to hold me
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| like the bedroom in the suburbs where I used to sleep.
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| This city built it’s lights like a cradle for the desperate youth,
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| but when we left it was a wasted bed,
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| worn to death by the bodies of our darkest nightmares
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| and the memories our coldest sweats.
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| And i don’t know if I could sleep again,
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| this place has killed our dreams.
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| I traced a map on the back of my hand,
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| but i still can’t see.
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| How did we lose our way?
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| I feel like the rain, raising the water by day,
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| and soaking river road with the memory of what used to be.
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| Maybe it was me that pulled the tide,
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| so when the pressure gets too high,
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| I can disappear at the water’s edge,
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| so i can swim in my own regrets.
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| But we’re still separated from the river that left us here,
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| we grew by the silt from the floodplain,
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| but we withered to grey in the sun,
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| our veins too swollen to stay shut.
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| We’re the waters that dried up,
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| we’re the blood that was lost.
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| We’re the flood that returned unrecognized,
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| we’re the homes that never forgot. |