| One day there will come a time
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| When the person you are named after dies
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| And all of a sudden you’re the only one left
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| And out of something as insincere as pride
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| You’ll change the way you turned on time
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| To remember the smiles
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| As we stood out front of the little church
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| The traffic just close enough to drown out
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| Whatever we heard the families say
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| As they waved the hearse away
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| And tonight I’m getting young drunk
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| Walking down the streets where I grew up
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| Knowing that they’re to blame
|
| And all the red brick fences look the same
|
| I’m getting young drunk
|
| Walking 'round the streets where I grew up
|
| Knowing that they’re to blame
|
| And all the red brick fences look the same
|
| Woah-oh, woah-oh, woah
|
| Oh-oh, woah-oh, woah
|
| Oh-oh, woah-oh, woah-oh
|
| And all alone in the suburbs
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| I can make as much noise as I want
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| Without disturbing more than the wind did the trees
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| And passing cars and security lights
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| Guide my way home through the night
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| And it feels safe here
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| And the neighbours aren’t close enough to hate me
|
| And tonight I’m getting young drunk
|
| Walking 'round the streets where I grew up
|
| Knowing that they’re to blame
|
| And all the red brick fences look the same
|
| I’m getting young drunk
|
| Walking round the streets where I grew up
|
| Knowing that they’re to blame
|
| And all the red brick fences look the same
|
| Woah-oh, woah-oh, woah
|
| Oh-oh, woah-oh, woah
|
| Oh-oh, woah-oh, woah-oh
|
| But I finally found a home
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| In a handful of people I was lucky enough to bump into
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| We act like pessimists, but we’re in love with it
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| And I’m in love with you
|
| And our tiny bed in the upstairs front room
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| Of a run-down terrace house
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| Which is obviously perfect as it sounds
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| Even in the summer
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| When the cardboard window
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| That you tape on every day falls out
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| And wakes us up
|
| And tonight I’m getting young drunk
|
| Walking 'round the streets where I grew up
|
| Knowing that they’re to blame
|
| And all the red brick fences look the same
|
| I’m getting young drunk
|
| Walking 'round the streets where I grew up
|
| Knowing that they’re to blame
|
| And all the red brick fences look the same
|
| Woah-oh, woah-oh, woah
|
| Oh-oh, woah-oh, woah
|
| Oh-oh, woah-oh, woah-oh-oh
|
| All alone in the suburbs |