Evil Spawn

Waxahatchee

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    Take my money, I don't work that hard
    I fall asleep in the beating heart
    Of a dying breed peddling some lost art
    Watch it fade, watch it fall apart

    You let me go on and on
    In the tall grass of a con
    The prestige of some evil spawn
    Well, I guess that's yours to settle on

    There ain't nothing to it, babe
    We can roll around in the disarray
    In the final act of the good ole days
    Ooh

    What you're holding so close
    Calls you by name
    What you thought was enough
    Now seems insane

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    If we stand out in some wild city street
    Dodging every car, every thief, and disease
    Catching tiny crumbs in the heartless breeze
    Say we're tough as nails, say we're both naive

    You let me fill every room
    Wax poetic and presume
    Your principles ripen into
    A fragile tomb, watch it split in two

    What you do and you say
    Sustain harmony
    What you thought was enough
    Well, it works for me

    There ain't nothing to it, babe
    We can roll around in the disarray
    In the final act of the good ole days
    In the final act of the good ole days

    Ooh (good ole days)
    Ooh (good ole days)
    Ooh (good ole days)
    Ooh (good ole)

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    Composición: Waxahatchee

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