| I wish I could, but I can’t rest as easy as you
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| I never really could anyway
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| And thoughts of the future make me worry
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| Heart, settle down!
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| This isn’t your last day
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| You’ll wake up tomorrow
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| This bedroom never gets to see the light of day
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| The shades are always drawn completely
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| And it only ever seems to come alive at night
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| I took you here to take you from yourself once
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| And you smiled at me
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| You smiled shamelessly and often then
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| But it wasn’t enough
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| I read your thoughts like sifting through your cabinets while you were out of
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| the room
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| I stole every treasured thought that you had and left you gutted when I could
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| find no more
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| You had poems written on the roof of your mouth
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| And I had scraped them out with the tip of my tongue and spat them onto the
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| floor
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| Where they dried up and blew away
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| And the butterflies in your stomach were all pinned to the skin on the inside
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| And if didn’t love you then, I love you now
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| But it’s easy to love something when there’s pain in its eyes
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| This isn’t your last day, you’ll wake up tomorrow
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| This isn’t your last day, you’ll wake up tomorrow
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| So I pull the shades back, let the light pour in through every crack I slammed
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| into the window
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| Will the good parts stay in limbo?
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| Why can I only remember when you said you’d love me better if I left?
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| And not the way you said, a thousand times, that if I left you’d die? |