14.1342
Not same as before, locked down no escape
Your heard hurts hard, throbs in straight
Rescue you from roads of pain
Grime in the back of your brain break glass just to feel sane
It's alright to see our lives pass you by
Over you we step on glass with broken teeth
It's so true, empty bottles and lust tattoos
New punk tombs
Mains a street of shame and hastings a waste of life
Broadway take the eastbound to 1342
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