| You hear a song and it’s not like any song you’ve ever heard before
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| Think, «What is this, who is that?"and you bust it down to the record store
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| And you buy the album of this song, take it home and listen to it all night long
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| Until the morning, a dream is born and
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| You wake up on a mission to buy that beat up Gibson hanging in the shop
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| Cutting yards, selling baseball cards, whatever it takes till you drop
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| A handful of crumpled up dollar bills on the counter
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| And you play that thing until your fingers bleed where the strings cut ya
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| But you can’t put it down
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| Ain’t no rest for the rock stars
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| Ain’t no sleep for the kids with guitars
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| You can kill the lights and the amplifiers
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| But dreams don’t care if you’re tired
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| Ain’t no turning off the warning
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| 'Cause we are high on and we’re haunted
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| By the music in our bloodshot hearts
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| There ain’t no rest, no rest for the rock stars
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| You see that open mic night advertised on the marquee down the road
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| You show up, sign up with a lump in your throat and a song you just wrote
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| Throwing up in the bathroom stall, thinking hard about backing out
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| But they call your name and it’s way too late for stage fright now
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| Hands shaking, so is your voice, fumbling through the chord changes
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| But about half way through the song fear starts to feel like famous
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| And you taste that rush, that «born to do this"buzz
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| And you try to shut your eyes after the show in your bed but
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| The adrenaline won’t let you 'cause
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| Ain’t no rest for the rock stars
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| Ain’t no sleep for the kids with guitars
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| You can kill the lights and the amplifiers
|
| But dreams don’t care if you’re tired
|
| Ain’t no turning off the warning
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| 'Cause we are high on and we’re haunted
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| By the music in our bloodshot hearts
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| There ain’t no rest, no rest for the rock stars
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| And it never changes, whether you’re playing sold-out arenas
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| Listening to whole crowd singing every single word back at you, or you’re
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| Strumming along way past your bedtime dark
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| You trying to stretch your fingers far enough to play the first chord
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| From the little people staring on at a poster on the ceiling
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| To the Rolling Stones on it, yeah, they both know the feeling
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| The hunger, the fire, the do or the die, or the platinum handcuffs
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| The curse, the cure, the love
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| Ain’t no rest for the rock stars
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| Ain’t no sleep for the kids with guitars
|
| You can kill the lights and the amplifiers
|
| But dreams don’t care if you’re tired
|
| Ain’t no turning off the warning
|
| 'Cause we are high on and we’re haunted
|
| By the music in our bloodshot hearts
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| There ain’t no rest, no rest for the rock stars |