| Green Street, full of memories
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| Wild hearts, doing what they please
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| I remember the funky old place where we used to stay
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| We played all night, we slept all day
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| We’d set 'em up, we’d shoot 'em down
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| There was something lost, there was something found
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| And it kept us going as we stood alone
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| In the cold heart of the stone
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| Boston, angels walkin' 'round
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| Blue nights, hearing every sound
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| And every night was like poetry
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| It always is when you’re runnin' free
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| The songs we sang used to float and hang
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| In the side street clubs you’d see anything
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| As we raced ahead for a world ahead
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| To the cold heart of the stone
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| Radio blast from the past
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| Can make you feel so alone
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| Time is a knife, it cuts up your life
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| It cuts up your life and it’s gone
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| Every night was a Fool’s Parade
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| We’d get so lost in the plans we made
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| We’ll crack it up, we’ll break it down
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| We’ll feel the fire burnin' up the town
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| And we’ll lift it all right down to the bone
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| To the cold heart of the stone
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| To the cold heart of the stone
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| To the cold heart of the stone
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| To the cold heart of the stone |