Lyric

I became a father
Tin can shooter
Makes us ready
He lies in waiting
And I hope we find it
Before they find it

Oh, oh , oh
So I tell stories
Make my friends tick
They like me for it

So bring on the papers
Cause we're ready for it
What makes us ready

The site of the (brower?)
The taste of , something
The thought of houses
Rows of houses

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