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Foo Fighters - Foo Fighters
Good Grief
I handed down the crown, given the jewels and the answers of may
the thought of being ousted comes and goes
when I think about it the wind blows
I hate it
run me out of town, somewhere a move might intended a gown at
pissed at all the bowels, always the blues and a delicate smile
missed all of the sideways, gull and noun
chills and petty band-aids, wrapped around
I hate it
good grief
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