"We Run" by Sugarland
Snake oil and roses, pockets of dirt
Hands of a fortune teller’s son
Young love shaking the earth
Like a heart shot out of a gun
Lips like gravity, pull me under
Reckless weather on his breath
Smells like rain, hits like thunder
A storm is coming, I’ve got nothing left
So we run, yeah, yeah, yeah, we run
Come undone like a string on a
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