| This one goes out to
|
| All of those who love the smell of gasoline
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| I figured out that where they want to be
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| Is in the in between
|
| Have you ever seen the world at 6 AM
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| When it’s cold and dark and almost silent
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| You’ll never want to sleep again
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| Let your blood boil up
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| While mine stands still
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| Always the antagonist
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| Because I’m not at home all year
|
| Overeager, eat your words
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| I’ll feed them to you this time
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| One more goodbye
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| I’m good with the guilt-trip
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| Because reconciliation’s overrated
|
| I’ll be at the Firkin
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| In the back room with a stiff drink in each hand
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| I’m not enamored by
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| The stories being told
|
| It’s not that I don’t love this town
|
| I just feel like it’s getting old
|
| Let all your blood boil up
|
| While mine stands still
|
| I’ll always be the antagonist
|
| Because I’m never home, oh yeah
|
| Overeager, eat your words
|
| I’ll feed them to you this time
|
| To get it right
|
| True believer, do your worst
|
| And sing along to all our goodbyes
|
| And all these days we spent on
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| Pure on adrenaline, I’ll take it
|
| I’ll take it over dirty clockwork living
|
| What would we tell our children then?
|
| Overeager, eat your words
|
| I’ll feed them to you this time
|
| One more goodbye
|
| Overeager, eat your words
|
| I’ll feed them to you this time
|
| To get it right
|
| True believer, do your worst
|
| And sing along to all our goodbyes |