| I am nineteen and I’m on my mom’s roof
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| It’s Arizona how I’m cold and aloof
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| It’s a blue morning, the music, the moon
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| You’ll never love or be loved like I love you
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| I’ve yet to hear of jazz or soulful remedies
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| Just the distant dreams of sad melodies
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| Lonely tune, a melancholy lullaby
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| My sleepy sister sings a dreadful goodbye
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| I want to know what I’ve been keeping inside
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| I want to feel the music between my thighs
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| You know there’s someone there when they’re chasin' you
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| You know you’re someone but can’t quite find out who
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| Lord on high
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| Where am I going?
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| Praying hard
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| See him showing
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| Who I’ll be
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| I am twenty and I’m packing my things
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| I live in Chicago and it lives in me
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| I’m in love with all its music and its snow
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| I’m also in love with a girl and her poems
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| I hate to leave but I am chasing success
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| I caught a red-eye out to LAX
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| I kiss my love goodbye and he kisses back
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| My film-noir slowly fades to black
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| Lord on high
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| Where am I going?
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| Praying hard
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| See him showing
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| Who I’ll be
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| The most famous man in the world
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| One photo, eyes like pearls
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| Drakkar, James Bond, white skin
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| Ray-ban, bleach-blond, drug binge
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| And he’s driving this Jeep not fast enough speed
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| Does his mind race like mine?
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| Snapped the photo in time
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| I am twenty-one and having some fun
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| Sitting in my Jeep in California
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| I smoke a cigarette
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| I’ve never had one
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| I suspect it’s the first but not last one
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| A bombshell blond girl sits on her balcony
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| A trumpet player with no teeth next to me
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| A tatted woman with a beehive by the trees
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| We all smoke cigarettes till the next reprise
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| Cigarette
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| Where am I going?
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| Watch the smoke
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| See it showing
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| Cigarette
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| Somethings growing
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| There’s a feel
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| But there’s no knowing
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| Who I’ll be
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| Cigarette
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| Cigarette
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| Cigarette
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| Cigarette |