| Life without Susanna
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| Started when Townes Van Zandt died
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| From that day on she hid out undercover
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| Her Percocet and cigarette along for the ride
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| She made the bed inside her head a shelter
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| Each new day a sliver through the blinds
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| I tried tough love, tenderness and anger
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| But nothing pierced the fortress inside her mind
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| The first time I saw her she threw me that smile
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| Pure angel of mercy east Texas style
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| A poet in gingham, an assassin in jeans
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| The most near perfect woman I’d ever seen
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| She was hardly routine
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| Life without Susanna
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| Troubles me in ways hard to express
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| As she withdrew I grew distant and judgmental
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| A self-sure bastard and a stubborn bitch
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| Locked in a deadly game of chess
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| The upside of my status a cut above the rest
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| The last time I saw her was close to the end
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| I cried like a baby for the shape I was in
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| No lipstick or powder to soften the tone
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| The most worthy opponent I’ve ever known
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| Was already gone
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| Life without Susanna
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| Is something that we all have to face
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| So welcome to the world as we don’t know it
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| Big blue knuckleball free floating somewhere out in space
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| Where life without Susanna is no man’s saving grace
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| This is life without Susanna and I can’t find my place |