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Crisis In The Slow Lane
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I still have your painting It's set on my wall and is the man behind you screaming come on home? will you come home? and if I only hurt you why sit in the winter cold with me for company? for I am just a black cloud don't you know you gut will let you down. and you still ask why we all day we are tired of feeling low we tired being low destroy a head but your your own but if we make it to see morning coffee I swear you'll find answer yeah I swear you'll find an answer I can see your father painted in the sky no there was not an artist not even a last goodbye so he longs to hear the words that will make you feel much better still what's better still i the cross you lay upon will say that i knew your gut would let you down we all day we are tired of feeling low we tired being low destroy a head but your your own but if we make it to see morning coffee I swear you'll find answer yeah I swear you'll find an answer we'll find hope there is a crisis in the slow lane are you figuring life out you will miss the point of the question of where you are WE ALL SAY WE ARE TIRED OF FEELING LOW TIRED BEING ALONE DESTORY A HEAD BUT NOT WE ALL SAY WE ARE TIRED OF FEELING LOW TIRED BEING ALONE DESTORY A HEAD BUT NOT YOUR OWN AND IF WE MAKE IT TO SEE MORNING COFFEE THEN I SWEAR YOU'LL FIND AND ANSWER YEAH I SWEAR YOU'LL FIND AN ANSWER
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