| It came on a Thursday
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| Everything seemed to be holding its breath
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| It was the first real snow for years
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| It made everything look beautiful
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| And I wanted it to stay like this
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| So bad
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| I hung like a tongue from my open-mouth window
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| Thinking I should make the most of this
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| While it lasts
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| I climbed to the once familiar hill
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| Where the rambling roses were sleeping and stared
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| Down towards the park where you once said
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| This is the last time
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| This is the last time
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| This is the last time
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| I break your heart
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| It was full of giant snow balls five feet high
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| The people had made families played in the snow
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| It made me feel calm so I stood for awhile
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| And I listened wishing I could burst into flames
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| Or disappear or something somehow the sky deepened
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| And I was soaking wet it had become a blizzard
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| And through the storm I saw
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| On the old wall of the old bridge
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| The New Urban Prophet inscribed in white
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| Talking to me through the howling winds
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| Writers that don’t write
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| End up talking to themselves
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| And I wanted it to stay like this so bad
|
| This is the last time
|
| This is the last time
|
| This is the last time
|
| I break your heart
|
| This is the last time
|
| This is the last time
|
| This is the last time
|
| I break your heart
|
| The sky, it opened up into a dream
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| Talking to me through the howling winds
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| The sky, it opened up into a dream
|
| Talking to me through the howling winds
|
| Talking to me through the howling winds
|
| This is the last time
|
| This is the last time
|
| This is the last time
|
| This is the last time
|
| I break your heart
|
| This is the last time
|
| This is the last time
|
| I break your heart
|
| This is the last time
|
| This is the last time
|
| I break your heart
|
| This is the last time |