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American Radio Runaway. Other. Letter Postmarked Goodbye. Zeneszám


The days get shorter here ever since you stole the sun.
Put it in your pocket and went down south past the horizon.
Bend my fingers back so I'll no longer write words that snap your neck and burn these blue eyes.

One thousand miles and eleven state lines to cross.
When every second is another lifetime we've lost.
American Radio Runaway