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The day we sweat him in the roads of an American dream to cross which we go by the villas of famous in the apparatuses of suicide, on road 9 to be resulted outside the night outside, to chromium we are turned, the fuel injected and steppin on the line baby this city outside the bones of your back are to him a trap of death, him of reality Selbstmordpochen we break received to leave, while we are young `causes tramps like us, the baby we were that born, to make the executives run Wendy left me, inside which me your friend I would like to be would like your dreams and of the sights a packing right your legs round to protect these Samtkanten and your Hands on my apparatuses belts we could break this trap together to run us, until we fall, with the baby who we never go from return will go you with me on control `because baby are me outside frightened Mitfahrer and only me precisely however received, to discover, as it believes me would like to know, if loves wildly is, the girls whom I would like to know, if the love is true beyond the palate cries bumblebees hemi-angetriebene the road of luxury which the girls comb and test the boys their hair in rearview the mirrors, to look to the bottom if hard the park of entertainment increases grassement and of the kids are rigid on the beach in a pressing fog me with you if Si Wendy on the roads wanted to die this evening in kiss of the road, defective Heldern on a last fortuitous device control of each one on the race is accumulated eternally outside this evening however there, any place, is not on the left, to dissimulate together of Wendy whom we do not live with Traurigkeit with all Verr├╝cktheit in my one girl day heart know me I love you, when we come in this place where we would like to really go and we go to the sun however, then like us it baby tramps, were us born to run


You ain't nothing but a waitress in the sky - one of my all time faves - Replacements or otherwise.

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