the lines on the road growing from the shadows, can you hear the rain pour, i followed the lines you showed me, lost inside of these aerodyamic doors, the pistol has been loaded, the trigger it sure feels cold, the way that we have faded, this dirty halogen offset is getting so damn old, my mind is screaming like a preacher pushing you out of my soul, ill wake again another day with trust thats on parole, at least I have these hands they bury my mind away, when these six strings are ringing they're patiently hanging the day

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