When I was younger, 14 or so,
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I lived my life like it was over.
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Spent my days searching for cigarette butts,
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my nights in a newspaper bin.
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Loitered the halls of North Miami Beach Senior High
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on cocaine or pussy or anything goes,
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a comic book collecting time-bomb.
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Hey, alright. It's not over.
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It's never over.
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When I was younger, 14 or so,
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I lived my life by the next court order.
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Holed away in rehabs,
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where they promised to save my soul.
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I'm still waiting, and I miss Matt Craft,
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I miss smoking crack, and I miss my bedroom.
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And though John's still around,
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there's no going back I presume.
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14 Or So
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As Friends Rust |