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West

RADICAL FACE · The Bastards 2015 · Track 09 of 11

Familiar ground's a distant thing When you travel vague and crooked roads And the sun's a scab on vacant skies Now we always hope we're still alone

There's too much time for idle minds Imagination's armed with hooks and knives We count our fears to pass the time Tired or not, don't close your eyes

A picket fence A painted house A quiet life

One where our days are calm And night's are spent in kind One where our hopes and dreams Are attainable things One where time can't reach

Gain half the plains now Cut mountain chains down Sleep when you can You can't know how the night's fall

Things will be better there Things will be good there Don't stop to think Just chase the dream we're chasing

I smell the fireplace Warm light, a warm face A quiet life A life, a life, a life, a life A life along the breeze

The dogs came at midnight Guns drawn and eye's bright I heard them laughin' Black voices scratchin'

Black wind they move like Our lives ain't worth the millions As dog's tear the canvas Flies on the carcass But it buys the time we need

The dogs came at midnight The dogs came at midnight The dogs came at midnight And I always hear them laughing

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