| Out of the cage you come running at me
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| Died seven times before we could agree
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| Now that we’re not perfect we have to be good
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| Now that we’re not perfect it’s misunderstood
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| They wiggled a finger that puts you in place
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| Your neighbor complained of the noises we make
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| Now that we’re not perfect we have to be good
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| Now that we’re not perfect it’s misunderstood
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| I write to you
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| With the words of a few
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| They have mastered the use
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| Of the language we use
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| «I forgave you long before I met you
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| For the things that you were bound to do»
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| Now that we’re not perfect we have to be good
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| Now that we’re not perfect we’re misunderstood
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| When I’m tired you make me smile with your eyes
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| Though my heart beats witness to the teeth that have lied
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| Are you tough?
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| Did you open your mouth?
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| Like a rotting flag I age without sound
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| Now that we’re not perfect we can be good
|
| Now that we’re not perfect we’re misunderstood
|
| Now that we’re not perfect we have to be good
|
| Now that we’re not perfect it’s misunderstood
|
| The paint from your walls
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| Was dripping on top of your feet
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| The paint from your walls
|
| Was dripping on top of your feet
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| The paint from your walls
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| Was dripping on top of your feet
|
| The paint from your walls
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| Was dripping on top of your feet feet |