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I think there's a danger, for me at least, in retreating and going inward and depression. I have to stay diligent against that tendency.
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So you say there are spaces, opening wide?Oh believe me, there's day longer than nights.And you could be happy, if only you'd try.But you don't try. No you don't try.
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We're going to sing about things that matter to us. The balancing act is to present these ideas but also make the music exciting and sort of fun enough that even if you're not paying attention to the lyrics, you might still like the songs anyway. That's the idea.
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I dreamt this ship was sinkin' there was people screaming all aroundAnd I awoke to my alarm clock it was a pop song it was playin' loud
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Considering our history, I can think of nothing more American than an immigrant.
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For a sunrise or a sunset, you're manic or you’re depressed.Will you ever feel ok?
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I drug your ghost across the country, and we plotted out my death.Every city and memory we whispered 'Here is where you rest.'Well I was determined in Chicago but I dug my teeth into my kneesAnd I settled for a telephone, sang into your machine:'You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.'
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There's a cat in the window, of the house of my lover.Well she sleeps there alone now, or perhaps with another.Oh I try no to think about that, I try not to think at all!
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And me I'm in the bathroomcrying out my eyelids because it's hard to be a manwhen you're scared, just like a little kid.
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I guess the best that I can do nowis to pretend that I've done nothing wrongand to dream about a trainthat's gonna take me back where I belong
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When people have real faith in something, it's fascinating to me. And the fact that so many people, in surveys, so many people say they do. It kind of blows my mind.
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I had a brother once, he drowned in a bathtub,before he'd ever learned how to talk.And I don't know what his name wasbut my mother does,I heard her say it once, she said,'Padraic, my prince, I have all but died from the sheer weight of my shame:you cried but no-one came.'
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The squatters made a mural of a Mexican girlWith fifteen cans of spray paint and a chemical swirlShe's standing in the ashes at the end of the worldFour winds blowing through her hair.
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Popular music is all about traveling at the speed of you and elevating the individual as the highest thing in the world.
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It was a small mistake Sometimes that is all it takes.
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It's not a movie, no private screening This method acting, well, I call that living
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Maybe there's a different story when it comes to hip-hop or different genres, but as far as rock music goes, I think there is a sort of fear of saying things people might be apt to criticize. Our band is the opposite of that.
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And it's too hard to focus through all this doubt I keep making this to-do list but nothing gets crossed out Working on the record seems pointless now When the world ends who's gonna hear it?
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You’ve been a father to me.Your 1960’s speak.Gives me comatose joy like re-run TV.While the mountainside was shining.Wild colors of my destiny
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My dad, who plays guitar and piano and was in cover bands, along with my older brother, Matt, taught me guitar and stuff. I started writing acoustic songs and playing by myself in 7th grade.
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Everything must belong somewhere.I know that now, that's why I'm staying here.
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But where was it when I first heard that sweet sound of humility?It came to my ears in the goddamn loveliest melody!How grateful I was, then, to be part of the mystery,To love, and to be loved!Let’s just hope that is enough.
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Don't be so amazing or I'll miss you too much.
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So don't be fooled, so don't get lied to Love was always cruel And don't act strange, don't be a stranger It happened to me, now it's happening to you But if you'd take that train underwater Then we could talk it through