I took a stroll down a primrose lane on a clear blue day
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Everything seemed so perfectly placed
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Daises lined each manicured lawn
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Well groomed men walked well groomed dogs
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Stopped in a bar for a mid-day drink
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On search of a scene more inspiring
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Shooting off the cap of a ball point pen
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Thinking happen, something happen
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When everything's in order
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Is that what you write about?
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There's nothing much new
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There's not much to say
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Well there's not much to say
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I got everything to lose
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It occurred to me
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No news is bad news
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When you trying to spark that fuse
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Well you wanna sing them blues
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You're waiting 'round for a water to boil
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For the fire to lose control
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But you can't heat up that kettle
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You gotta leave the elements alone
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It scares the shit outta me
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When weathered writers lose their steam
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I'm lonely, getting older, less interesting
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You can't make this shit up
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You can't make this shit up
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You can't make this shit up
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You can't make this shit up
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When everything's in order
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Is that what you write about?
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There's nothing much new
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There's not much to say
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Well there's not much to say
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I got everything in the news
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It occurred to me
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No news is bad news
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When you trying to spark that fuse
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I stumbled out into a black alley on a blood red doll
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The ramshackled block seemed trampled upon
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Shattered glass shimmered on burned cement
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A stray dog eating from a black bean tin
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Stopped in anettie's for a pick me up
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For leads on how the town got so fucked
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Bought a bloody mary with italian grit
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Saying, too dramatic
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Try again
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-----------------
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No News Is Bad News
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Cursive |