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Homeby The American SceneIīve been crossing out the days ītil
all of you can hear me sing and I remember that summer when we all caught our second wind. Well, maybe Iīm not the man that I thought Iīve become, but thatīs just the way things are where Iīm from. When time turns our dreams to more everyday things We can never lose our pride in what weīve done. Still, Iīve never been one for settlinī. Iīve been making a list of the things I wonīt miss about this lonestar town and everyone who never saw what we were always singing for. Everyone, everyone in this town (Everyone) is standing up to sing heavy heart songs. (in this town) Running out of patience with our own self-pity (sang it out) But itīs good to know that somebody still feels like me. (let it out.) I just get so caught up in these everyday eyes and those sleepless night stares I start being surprised when my friendīs disappearing. Iīm left here wondering where I was while they packed up all the things that I love. And Iīve gotten used to not missing you. Over time, I understate all those things that make me separate while I lay awake and think about everything that I can never be again. Everyone, everyone in this town (Everyone) is standing up to sing heavy heart songs. (in this town) Running out of patience with our own self-pity (sang it out) But itīs good to know that somebody still feels like me. (let it out.) These months that I spend closer to the sun have been screaming at me, "Kid, you canīt just run away from everything that youīre always so, so afraid to let everyone hear you say like īThese days, it seems like all I have left are outgoing calls to the people who, if they only knew better, wouldnīt care about any of this at all.ī" Everyone, everyone in this town (Everyone) is standing up to sing heavy heart songs. (in this town) Running out of patience with our own self-pity (sang it out) But itīs good to know that somebody still feels like me. (let it out.)
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