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lyrics

I hand you four cents
'Cause you ain't woth a nickel
You know I play for the love
I don't play for the fickle
And some broken strings
And some broken dreams
Brought you from the promised land
You hardly even tried
But I'll hold your hand
The academy, I'd like to thank
For my mouth like a sailor
And my body like a septic tank
'Causee I play my moosekick
And I wear my boon jeans
I used to be like you
Pistol ready to fire
Barrel pointed at all my friends
When it's love that I desired
You say you want respect
A little room to live
But if you want to earn my trust
Well, you gotta learn to give

credits

from .​.​.​of all ambition, released January 29, 2016

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Speak Up Records Ottumwa, Iowa

Local DIY record label for local DIY bands. Contact us at speakuprecords@gmail.com

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