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Neil Cicierega

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Neil Cicierega

Born to Cat

In the day we sweat it out on the streets of a runaway American dream
At night we ride through mansions of glory in suicide machines
Sprung from cages on Highway 9
Chrome-wheeled, fuel-injected and steppin' out over the line

Oh, baby, this town rips the bones from your back
It's a death trap, it's a suicide rap
We gotta get out while we're young
'Cause tramps like us
Baby, we were born to run