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Preacher's Ego Lyrics
Past the bouncers, ropes, and doors,
Saturday does its dancefloor chores
everywhere in pairs;
But on the sides in their chairs...
They'll sit there in contempt of self
for ever having dreamt
that sorrow wouldn't follow the night's events;
That it would be different.
The highs and lows...
The highs and lows...
Sunday's sleepy people...
Satiate your preacher's ego.
Repented sins, and spirits cleansed...
Through the doors to be dirtied again;
They'll sit there in contempt of self
for ever having dreamt
That sorrow wouldn't follow the night's events;
That it would be different.
The highs and lows...
The highs and lows...
The highs and lows...
'Cause sorrow always follows the night's events,
when will it ever be different?
Saturday does its dancefloor chores
everywhere in pairs;
But on the sides in their chairs...
They'll sit there in contempt of self
for ever having dreamt
that sorrow wouldn't follow the night's events;
That it would be different.
The highs and lows...
The highs and lows...
Satiate your preacher's ego.
Repented sins, and spirits cleansed...
Through the doors to be dirtied again;
They'll sit there in contempt of self
for ever having dreamt
That sorrow wouldn't follow the night's events;
That it would be different.
The highs and lows...
The highs and lows...
when will it ever be different?
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