It was a birthday gift
|
of a Mexican Telecaster
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And from this day on I will play along
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to all my young pioneers records
|
And there will be a poetry spoken silently between me and the stereo
|
I'll work mornings
|
and you can work through the night
|
Mary, there is no hope for us
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If this GM van don't make it
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across the state line
|
we might as well lay down and die
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Because if Florida takes us
|
we're taking everyone down with us
|
Where we're coming from (yeah)
|
will be the death of us
|
And I cannot help but hold on
|
to a handful of times
|
when what was spoken
|
was a revolution in itself,
|
and what we were doing
|
was the only thing that mattered
|
And how good it felt
|
to kill the memory of nights spent
|
holding your shirt for the smell
|
I heard you used to cry
|
when you made love to him
|
but this band will play on
|
Because all we can do is what we've always done.
|
And on and on and on...
|
|
-----------------
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We Laugh At Danger (And Break All The Rules)
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Against Me! |