It's pretty good, the wine
|
The way that we look at
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Ten to eight in the morning
|
Just talking, still awake in
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Dawn and dew drinking, thinking
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Always...
|
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Remembering the laughs, the time
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We got high for seven days down
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In New Orleans and it seemed like
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No one else knew we were just
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The moon and sun in fog before the
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Heat burned it away and took
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The sleep from tired heads on
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Beds of reaching hands, of road trip
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Breath and long tall freedom
|
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And then you long
|
For the days of trippin' down
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The long road just reading the
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Signs that show you the way to
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A higher place you meditate to
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Feel the quiet of the earth
|
That was back
|
When we used to be alright
|
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Another shame, the way
|
The city smells worse on
|
A hot day in August...2 PM
|
Right before us good movers
|
Move and us shakers break
|
Our hearts getting home to
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Country love and the garbage
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Dump by the dried up creek
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Near the forest that once had life
|
And then I turn on the news
|
Somebody shoot me soon
|
I'm tired of over heating, falling
|
Quick to bending knees and
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Broken veins, of always needing
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Faith to get to shore and break
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All the vows I've made
|
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No time or presence
|
Of mind to wonder why
|
No time for questions of
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Why I wonder why
|
Something's wrong...again
|
The noise shakes the ground
|
There's a rage in
|
The crowd and I'm a face
|
In the crowd, what's your name?
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You're sinkin' in the sand
|
Standing next to me, a river
|
Running through your pants, afraid
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To trust me when my hands
|
Are helping you
|
|
-----------------
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Used To Be Alright
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| I Mother Earth |