| Stretched across five miserable miles of parking lot
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| Are what seem to be the worst haircuts on Earth
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| And «Yo Dudes» talking in condescending tones
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| With neanderthal dance moves
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| At what’s hardly a punk show
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| Maybe I’m reading too much into things
|
| Maybe I’ll feel better about it tomorrow
|
| Maybe I’m reading too much into things
|
| Maybe I’ll feel better about it tomorrow
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| Than I do today
|
| But I’m bothered just enough to say to you
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| That you’ve got the wrong idea
|
| Or at least I’m pretty sure you do
|
| Truly, I can’t say anymore
|
| And I stopped keeping score six months ago
|
| So, I’ll just keep my mouth shut
|
| And talk in circles to everyone that I know
|
| I’ll paint you a picture
|
| Fifty dollar faces in three-hundred dollar costumes
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| Hardly working
|
| While me and people like me want to punch you like a time card
|
| Maybe you’re reading too much into things
|
| The things you think you need to sell a record
|
| Maybe I’m reading too much into things
|
| Maybe I’ll feel better about it tomorrow
|
| Than I do today
|
| But I’m bothered just enough to say to you
|
| That you’ve got the wrong idea
|
| Or at least I’m pretty sure you do
|
| «Bitter» is not the word I’d choose
|
| And «jealous» wouldn’t work either
|
| But, I’ll just keep my mouth shut
|
| And talk in circles to everyone that I know
|
| I’ll ask myself
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| «Who's got the wrong idea
|
| Me with nothing or you with everything?»
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| «Who's got the wrong idea
|
| Me with nothing or you with everything?»
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| I’m moving at speeds so fast you’d break your neck
|
| I’m moving at speeds so fast you’d break your neck
|
| Who’s got the wrong idea?
|
| You with nothing or me with everything?
|
| Who’s got the wrong idea?
|
| You with nothing or me with everything?
|
| Who’s got the wrong idea?
|
| You with nothing or me with everything?
|
| Who’s got the wrong idea?
|
| Who’s got the wrong idea? |