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The glory of a misspent youth, |
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chasing tire stains in muted thunder, |
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trading sex for drugs. |
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And my Ophelia does not drown, |
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she just barely hangs on. |
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Now driving drunk in Daddy's car. |
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Honey, I won't spoil the ending. |
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But see that bend up in the road? |
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Didn't it seem that the night |
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was a little too quiet? |
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When it seems your subjects |
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have all forgotten you, |
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I need you to pretend that you are mine. |
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And the water is just deep enough to |
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take another chance, |
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ah, but the river doesn't want you tonight. |
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The engine was not built to last. |
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And there's a permanence |
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to the memory of a bruise. |
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But I still take it on |
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the chin for you |
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You are not alone here, |
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but you ain't helping me none. |
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Disabled motorist |
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in the road, I have become one. |