Traffic lights are on the run
Thanksgiving day we play déjà vu like a card game
Breaking bread, skipping wine and lemon juice
The smell of marijuana permeates
  the sidewalk near the school

Every ship on the water's complaining that they can't see the
  sandbar until it's too late,
Do we have a place for you here?

I'm selling you out like a hurricane,
You watch me twitch, and wince, getting me off the ground so completely
You're wearing me out and I don't know what to do

And one shot in the dark.
And once, the wind signs the ground in blood.
And your guilty trick is over.

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