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lyrics
Fate would have it, it’s a grey market, charisma and a jawline, and a pocket full
All the money in the world won’t always buy your favourite song
To send a family into space is to take the long way home
I thought that all of these customs would have now been outgrown
All the words you say won’t mask the taste of the ridicule
The taste in my mouth is getting old, so stay outside despite the cold
We could be a vocal trebuchet armed to the teeth with poor vernacular
In sync we think the same but nothing’s ever gonna change.