| Too old to sell, too young to tell, too much of everything
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| Mirrors deflect light from their eyes
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| Fact turns to fiction when we blink
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| Things best forgotten don’t you think
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| Sit comfortably whilst telling lies
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| Those brittle trees, those skeleton leaves were meant for dying
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| Swallow the lies more than the truth
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| They’re always ready on the tongue
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| For all the falsehoods to be sung
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| Sit comfortably whilst telling lies
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| They don’t love you, the just need a little sex sometimes
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| True colours shine through
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| Don’t beat yourself up for being too blind
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| They don’t love you (x2)
|
| Too old to sell, too young to tell, too much of everything
|
| Mirrors deflect light from their eyes
|
| Fact turns to fiction when we blink
|
| Things best forgotten don’t you think
|
| Sit comfortably whilst telling lies
|
| (They don’t love you) Those brittle trees,
|
| those skeleton leaves were meant for dying
|
| (They just need a little sex sometimes) Swallow the
|
| lies more than the truth
|
| (True colours shine through) They’re always ready on the tongue
|
| (Don't beat yourself up for being too blind) For all
|
| the falsehoods to be sung
|
| Sit comfortably whilst telling lies
|
| They don’t love you
|
| They just need a little sex sometimes
|
| True colours shine through
|
| Don’t beat yourself up for being too blind |