While I go over it in my head
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Walk through those doors and stand there staring
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And there ain't one soul that's in there dead
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My hand stays out, I keep my head
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And walking out I see you sitting in that Ford of your old man's
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Scratching your arms like your skin is crawling
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But done up the best you can
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Face first pilot through your window
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Them Paupers they can't tell
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It's strange to think we could have been so brought up by
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Ourselves
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Run through the streets like rivers raging to seas of barren sand
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And while every gtain tears you apart stay done up the best
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You can
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Unemployment lines stretch to the desert and camoflouge
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Hotels
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Where traded up to new distinctions puts justice in your shells
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Take one for the team and that pretty lady used to cover
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Up the smell
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But when you get back boy you're just crazy if you dare kiss
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And tell
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This aching heart ain't something I done
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This aching heart's been handed down
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But I'm done with it now
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So I take that screaming in my head
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I walk through those doors and stand there staring
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And my hand slips into my coat and everything just freezes...
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Running out I see you sitting in the Ford of your old man's
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The boy come home
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The Boy Come Home
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Matthew Good Band |