Carol, we're fast approaching December. At least try to behave yourself through the winter as you haunt the open space where you will sleep. Suddenly it was as if you heard me speaking. You gave up and gave me a curse worth believing: Just superstition and crippling doubt. You clicked off before I figured this out. It's paralleling to single-file lines. I'd like to think that we could speak sometimes but what the hell would we have in common? You're barely breaking and I'm mostly broken. You're fucking careless, I'm fucking selfish. As we haunt the open space where you will sleep.
Well, we all knew you were an asshole and your new occupation lets everyone know for sure, directing traffic in The Big Apple (and toting a gun) wearing a badge that you swore you'd never wear. Like faded ink on the backside of your arm, kill your idols and wear them down and out. You're wearing them down and out because you've sold out. Well, we all knew you were an asshole, but you've really brought yourself to a new kind of all time low where the bullied becomes the bully and bullies what it's built on, in blue. A uniform that you swore you'd never wear. Like faded ink on the backside of your arm, kill your idols and wear them down and out. You're wearing them, down and out. Well, you should get used to donuts and drinking too much coffee, while I watch your punk-rock past disappear as fast, as you'll be reading it's Miranda rights. You're reading it's Miranda rights. You'll be reading it's Miranda rights. So, arrest me if I'm convinced that, more often than not, the worst kinds of people become (cops).
The night is cold as he walks alone.
Thinking about the things he should have said.
Its getting late, he’s got to clear his head;
he’s got his sweater on.
He really knows he shouldn’t feel this way.
He spends his days in that little room.
Can’t remember who he’s talking to
when he’s on his knees.
All his friends think he’s pretty nice.
He just smiles just to keep them out.
They don’t know what to talk about
when they’re on their own.
There’s a hole where there shouldn’t be.
They always crumble or just get too old;
He tries to fill it but it never holds.
he just knows it hurts.
Summer’s gone and I’m alone.
Pick the pieces up, pick the pieces up, pick the pieces up.
Summer’s gone and I’m alone.
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