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lyrics

I don't wanna feel feelings
I wish my head would stop reeling
I've gotta get out from under your thumb
so I can head to the tracks
lay down and relax
and wait for the train to come
"MUD" written on my face
always nervous, out of place
outside looking in, it suits me fine
I've heard it before
"the kids" are a bore
only a gun could ever blow my mind

take my hands from my pockets, and curl them into fists
but they crack and they bleed each time
come swinging at my head
but I never can duck in time

the ditch of my arms
and the small of my back
get so tense sometimes I lose my head
so I curl in a ball
and flex them all
until I stop seeing red
a steady diet of rage
it's what I breath
in what I bathe
freebase it straight into the vein
wash it all down
a furrowed brow and a frown
insecurity and white hot shame

If I could go back, and find myself
before I swore to grow to be a good man
I'd put a loaded gun in the naive little toehead's hand

If I could stop brooding
and learn to stop stewing
and enjoy the time I get with you
I'd claw my way to the top
have a seat and stop
for a minute to enjoy the view

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The Runouts Boston, Massachusetts

Outlaw country. But from the city, not the country. The city of Boston. And not country, but punk rock. So, a punk rock band from Boston.

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