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JONES
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Pavement
Sunday drive past your own hall of fame It's closed on week days shut for good You've got no one when you're talking Thoughts like rattlesnakes were walking
No one has a clue The party's shot The thin caught fault line dancing Across the frigid air shack
The spastic rats, The criminals chat Count to ten and read Until the lights begin to bleed lights
Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com Until you actually see the rays And your thoughts then start to turn and Those lessons that you're learning No one has a clue
The gauzy thoughts of the sturdy Scots Wrestle with the elements Up on the trail high I need to know where does it go
How do I get there and what will I find Fun for the summertime blues
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