Once you've left a lonely rage on its own, it grows
And dynamite stuffed in a mailbox doesn't smoke until it blowsAnd, oh, all the tears in four tiny years
Well, look at me, I'm frightening my friends
You better roll meI bought a map of the moon
There's a crater with my name on it and a really good view
There I was, getting drunk in your room
Because I wanted to throw my weight aroundAnd, oh, all the tears in four tiny years
Well, look at me, I'm frightening my friends
You better roll me homeYou better roll me home
You better roll me home
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