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    For a chemical imbalance
    You sure know how to ride a train
    Your revolution is a deathbed
    And the music is your maid
    When someone comes a-knockin'
    With a needle on a tray
    Only your lonesome lies beside you
    For you told me not to stay

    You are somebody's baby
    Some mother held you near
    No, it's not important, they're just pretty words, my dear
    There is no distraction that can make me disappear
    No, there's nothing that won't remind you
    I will always be right here

    And you spit the blood back
    Spit the blood back, baby
    I'm amazed that you're alright
    Oh, so long, prison boy
    I won't be home with you tonight

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    We're both very sick, our muscles are worn down
    It's as if we are one-hundred, know I won't still be around
    Because I've fallen
    Yes, I've fallen right into the love I've found
    Long before I reach one-hundred
    I'll have fallen to the ground

    And for generations, they'll romance us, make us more
    Or much less than ever was before
    The Chelsea and the floor
    Make us stand before the masses
    Like two speakers for the poor
    When there was no revolution
    Nothing we were fighting for

    And you spit the blood back
    Spit the blood back, baby
    I'm amazed that you're alright
    Oh, so long, prison boy
    I won't be home, I won't be home
    I won't be home with you tonight

    And you can call the service bell
    When we stay at the Chelsea Hotel
    And I'll stay out of my own hell

    Oh, so long, prison boy
    I won't be home, I won't be home
    I won't be home with you tonight
    Tonight

    Información de la canción

    Composición: Phoebe Bridgers

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