11.2nd Ave, 11 AM
Out of your personal scripture, Philomel, she comes
You sing songs to everyone about love and law and guns
But paint a dirtier picture and I think you know the one
You're not saving anyone, you're not saving anyone
Oh, just open your door
Be a flaneur once more
You're not walking anymore
You're not talking anymore
Overturning the scriptures, you leave yourself with none
Of your sinners to be saved or your comforts that you crave
It's a volatile mixture, the zealot and the rum
So you knew it couldn't be won, still hard lost because hard run
So here's to things that console
And to at least knowing your role
And to never being done
You're a rabbit on the run
Ne, ne travaillez jamais
No, never work, that's what they say
Mais ne, ne, ne, nous n'arretons pas
No, don't lets stop until it's done
Ne, ne travaillez jamais
No, never work, that's what they say
Mais ne, ne, ne, nous n'arretons pas
No, don't lets stop until it's done
Ne, ne travaillez jamais
No, never work, that's what they say
Mais ne, ne, ne, nous n'arretons pas
Keeping running, rabbit, you're a rabbit on the run
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