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You can hide ‘neath your covers
and study your pain,
make crosses from your lovers,
throw roses in the rain,
waste your summer prayin’ in vain,
for a savior to rise from these streets.
Well now, I’m no hero – that’s understood.
All the redemption I can offer, girl,
is beneath this dirty hood
with a chance to make it good somehow.
Hey,  what else can we do now except
roll down the window
and let the wind blow back your hair?
Well, the night’s bustin’ open, these two lanes will take us anywhere.

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