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lyrics
Always thought it was fine,
what I recall
But one bad week
will change it all
Shell it out for a day
to drag on the bottom
and row alone
until they’re gone
All wrapped up
and out of reach
It appears
it’s every year
So I’ll take up everything,
send it to the wind,
and maybe hope that a breeze
will let me in
All the secrets that you keep
and all the stories that you read
never put you any closer
to what you need
And I’ll always get sad
listening to the Dead
Driving down to Assateague
in my head
Does it ever fade away,
all the people and every place,
trapped inside of my head
at the end of the day?
Empty seats
it’s often strange
The way is straight,
long and grey
Can’t look away
Take a moment that you need,
keep it for a week,
and find out that the game
is not what it seems
And I’ll drive a thousand miles
to see if I get tired
Take a break
and give it a try