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Walt Whitman

Light it up like the city at night

Old dark bones in the city

Old Walt Whitman and borrowed alcoholWe drove fast shaking all the way

Like the waves in California

Sorry I never know what to say at allCaught in a whirlwind

Dry as a bone

And I don't think that I can make it

On my own

On my own, my own

On my own, my own

On my own, my ownBurning love man it never ends

I tried but I couldn't make it

Yeah your paperback lovers could never pay the billsWorn it once and then let it go

Or you may never shake it

End up drinking too much and pop a pillLoose like a feather

And left here alone

And I don't think that I can make it

On my own

On my own, my own

On my own, my own

On my own, my own

Songwriters

DAVID PATRICK CARROLL, DAVID PAUL SIMONETT, ERIK ROBERT BERRY, RYAN DAVID YOUNG, TIMOTHY POWELL SAXHAUGPublished by

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