Had so much to do with it,
Unlike you ever gave a shit,
Got a pocket full of nothing,
And a chip on the tip of your tongue
We don't ever wanna miss,
The guy from Minneapolis,
Taking one big step,
And he's missing the whole front run.
You've got blood on your knuckles from beating them down,
Each and every day,
Blood on your knuckles from dragging them round,
No matter what they say.
One big giant sing-along,
I tell you're right even when you're wrong,
Always be here rooting for you,
Right till the end.
Calls me every single Christmas day,
I never know quite just what to say,
Going fifteen years of,
Kinda-sorta being my friend.
You've got blood on your knuckles from beating them down,
Each and every day,
Blood on your knuckles from dragging them round,
No matter what they say.
And you came all this way,
Got there just in time,
To stop right before the finish line.
You've got blood on your knuckles from beating them down,
Each and every day,
Blood on your knuckles from dragging them round,
No matter what they say.
And you came all this way,
Got here just in time,
To stop right before the finish line.
To stop right before the finish line,
To stop right before...