| Wind blows snow outside my windows
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| Crowd below runs wild in the streets
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| Two rented brothers race down two separate alleys
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| Heading for the finish line
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| Down in the train yard out by the stockyard
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| Butchers with aprons hack meat in the snow
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| Blood has the brothers pulsing with envy
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| Heading for the finish line
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| Two rented brothers. |
| Their faces keep changing
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| Just like these feelings I have for you
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| And nothing’s forever not even five minutes
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| When you’re headed for the finish line
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| Down in the depot out by the meat rack
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| Down by the tunnels surrounding the jail
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| Prisoners are marching in squares and in circles
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| They’re heading for the finish line
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| They’re lining up for Noah’s Ark
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| They’re stabbing each other in the dark
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| Saluting a flag made of some rich guy’s socks
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| Heading for the finish line
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| Close to the line the ice is cracking
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| Two rented feelings sitting in the stands
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| Two mothers, two fathers and both of them are paid for
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| All of a sudden it comes back to me
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| Just up ahead is the finish line
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| Two rented referees and two checkered rags
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| Out of the corner of my eye comes a dark horse with black wings
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| Headed for the finish line
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| I’m five years old the room is fuzzy
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| I think there’s also a very young girl
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| It’s hard to remember what happened exactly
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| As I’m staring at the finish line
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| First came fire then came light
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| Then came feeling then cane sight |