The bricks get laid,
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and they get torn up,
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and laid again,
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but the bricks always get torn up again.
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Your friends won't wait,
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so don't believe that shit,
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when they say they'll wait.
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Trust me; your friends will not wait for you.
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Then you'll be stoned in some park,
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just nodding your head and pinching your arms,
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when a girl walks along.
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She's humming your song,
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with your t-shirt on.
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That's when you're done,
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Oh, that's when you're done...
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There's a cotton crush
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down in the southern states.
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But back up here, man, we've got
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so much thread and space
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to waste, waste, waste.
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There's a microphone
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picking every word up
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and it shuts itself off
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when it's sure that's its heard enough.....
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The quiet can scrape
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all the calm from your bones,
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but maybe it should.
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Maybe we need to be hollowed
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to get up and grow,
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and stop fucking around,
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to kick off our braces and start straightening out.
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Let's sift through the static
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to find a simpler sound
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Let's sift through the static
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to find a simpler sound...
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simpler sound than the shit that's clouding our heads now
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-----------------
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Cotton Crush
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Kevin Devine |