The Boy Come Home

Matthew Good

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    While I go over it in my head
    Walk through those doors and stand there staring
    And there ain't one soul that's in there dead
    My hand stays out, I keep my head
    And walking out I see you sitting in that Ford of your old man's
    Scratching your arms like your skin is crawling
    But done up the best you can

    Face first pilot through your window
    Them Paupers they can't tell
    It's strange to think we could have been so brought up by
    Ourselves
    Run through the streets like rivers raging to seas of barren sand
    And while every gtain tears you apart stay done up the best
    You can

    Unemployment lines stretch to the desert and camoflouge
    Hotels
    Where traded up to new distinctions puts justice in your shells
    Take one for the team and that pretty lady used to cover
    Up the smell
    But when you get back boy you're just crazy if you dare kiss
    And tell

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    This aching heart ain't something I done
    This aching heart's been handed down
    But I'm done with it now

    So I take that screaming in my head
    I walk through those doors and stand there staring
    And my hand slips into my coat and everything just freezes...

    Running out I see you sitting in the Ford of your old man's
    The boy come home

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    Composición: Matthew Good

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