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You can scream at me, but hear my pleas. "This ain't right." "No, you're never satisfied!" Do you ever think about how as you grow up I fall down? You'll be around. You'll stop by sometime to kick me when I'm down. Know what? I might be growing up, but I don't think that means I've given up.
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Luau - Keene
03:31
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First trip I've taken in a while; first love I've felt in some time. Last chance to try out our luck; last chance to see what this is like tonight. You can't tell me this isn't what you want and you can't deny emotional response. I know what I told, but I just had to show you: some fires I cannot put out and these flames are licking at me now. I said, "Go on and do your worst" and then I went and did it first. I know I told you that I wouldn't remind you, but I left my heart out there in Keene right beside you.
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3. |
Choke Up - Splinter
01:23
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I'm a graduate of social counterfeit, standing statuesque at the precipice. And this ain't no achievement, believe me, more a bereavement for a passing feeling of expectation. You get what you kill and I'm not one to save. You get what you give and I got what I gave: a half-wry reply to an honest life. The gravel's loosening beneath my feet, and I'm grinning so wide the sky can see the white of my teeth.
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Choke Up - Salt
03:32
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It's okay, don't move. I'll get the door and your suit; brought it straight from the cleaners, it still smells just like you. Don't know what more you could want than to be loved this strong. If your depression's an ocean, picture me an ark. But you're a ghost underwater and a bloodless brother, taking aim at the moon, draping drop-cloth on the sun. I can navigate the fact you can't find safe passage in me, just do yourself a favor, don't hold your breath when you sink. 'Cause no one likes a river when it overflows. The cold comes quickest to the shoreline's little skipping stones, and you're Sticky Fingers spinning as the porch begins to splinter. I bet that vessel's looking real fine, but you can't get independence off your mind. You better call up for the rope or learn to float on your own. "What merchant's ships have my sighs drown'd,"* baby? If anything, I pulled your cargo to safety. You left your Sunday best to the wasted. Oh, patient me, forever dressed in placation. Splinters in the drinking well and salt in your blood, the waters parted in the dark but you're still dreaming of comas. A suit looks best with a dress pressed close to the vest, but you've conditioned the stitching to snag on sea salt and splinters.
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