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There's a thousand black cars Driving around in my blood stream I'd have to take a thousand pills To find out where their headlights lead. Is it cold New York? Is it freezing in your bed? Because I caught a deep chill When I went over the Hudson again. It's alright, counting city lights, Where the Turnpike divides, Waving goodbye to my former life. I don't want to be a self-medicator But it's hard to sleep when you're born to run. I'm sick of living life in the Garden State Trap But all the roads are pointing home again. Holy Cross has got a headstone all picked out for me And my only job is to walk around until I fall down at it's feet. Maybe home is just the place you can never escape: From the Camden City graves to the edge of the Palisades It's alright, counting city lights, Where the Turnpike divides, Waving goodbye to my former life. I don't want to be a self-medicator But it's hard to sleep when you're born to run. I'm sick of living life in the Garden State Trap But all the roads are pointing home again. And I'll be counting the city lights Blinking on and off tonight as life passes by And I'm left behind, standing on the shoulder of the Jersey Turnpike. Buildings seem to rise like coffins full of stars getting buried in the sky. You want to laugh and dance... to be free? Well, alright - I've been thinking about those days I wanted to sleep And you'd wake me up just before you'd leave And I'd fall back into a dream: Walking in fresh city snow that you'd never seen And I'd never leave your side.