| Too much time is spent on the dead
|
| All the places found us back to live in his head
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| Like the bones of a lover on a dying bed
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| With all the nothings that he never said
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| Mr. Motorcycle must have missed his plane
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| Thousand miles an hour
|
| Could’ve been ugly, could’ve been a shame
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| Turned him around by calling out his name
|
| An young prince charming wrote the book of love
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| Said the words came from a place above
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| And he flew it on the wings of a virgin love
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| But nobody knows what he was speaking of It all goes around
|
| Some break free, some break down
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| Some get lost and some get found
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| Though I stand upon shaky ground
|
| I know it all goes around
|
| Well, John, the liar, he talks endlessly
|
| He’s traveled 'cross the world and the seven seas
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| He makes up places to go and people to be Sometimes I think that he made up me Mississippi singers must’ve said it best
|
| There ain’t nothing worse than emptiness
|
| You got an empty bottle and an empty chest
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| Nothing more, always less
|
| It all goes around
|
| Some break free, some break down
|
| Some get lost and some get found
|
| Although I stand upon shaky ground
|
| I know it all goes around, alright
|
| Wake up, child and there’s a work to do The crop is getting thin and the chickens too
|
| Better get moving while the day is new
|
| I know you got something left in you
|
| I know it all goes around
|
| Some break free and some break down
|
| Some get lost trying to get found
|
| Though I stand upon shaky ground
|
| I know it all goes around
|
| Round and round, and round and round
|
| Round and round, and round and round
|
| Round and round, and round and round
|
| Round and round, and round and round
|
| Round and round, and round and round
|
| Round and round, and round and round |