| From the echoed streets of The Mission
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| Where the night can save your life
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| To the rows of narrow corridors
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| Where the world looks nothing like
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| Anything your eyes have ever seen
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| In your entire life
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| San Francisco can be short and louder
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| Than the world at night
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| And the world exhales
|
| And none of us can even stand still
|
| Let it rain all day on our asshole parade
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| 'Cause we’re smiling still
|
| Count your bruises one by one and laugh it off
|
| And stick around down here with us
|
| There’s unity in detachment
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| We’re not on trial
|
| So let the time you spent on the Backbench
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| Make the life you’ve lived worthwhile
|
| In a city blanketed with revolution
|
| You can’t live in denial
|
| And none of us can even stand still
|
| Let it rain all day on our asshole parade
|
| 'Cause we’re smiling still
|
| Count your bruises one by one and laugh it off
|
| And stick around down here with us
|
| Don’t go living life inside those quotations
|
| Look to your friends for your inspiration
|
| Chicago rooftops will take me away from the ugly city
|
| By the 405, where every palm tree dies and the world is burning alive
|
| And none of us can even stand still
|
| Let it rain all day on our asshole parade
|
| 'Cause we’re smiling still
|
| Count your bruises one by one and laugh it off
|
| And stick around down here with us
|
| Count your bruises one by one and laugh it off
|
| Count your bruises one by one and laugh it off |