| It’s my arms that wrap you up nice
|
| It’s my arms, my arms, baby
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| Small rooms with record exec types
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| Whisper away my future lately
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| I’ll introduce you to producers
|
| I’ll write your songs and make them way damn shorter
|
| I’m so confused
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| This industry has made me cold, you’ll find
|
| I trusted you to make me shine bright
|
| This is almost getting old
|
| Shock me with fear it’s taking longer
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| Blood sweat and years will make me way damn stronger
|
| It’s my words that fail to give insight
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| I blame you, blame me, baby
|
| I’m so confused
|
| This industry has made me cold, you’ll find
|
| I trusted you to make me shine bright
|
| This is almost getting old
|
| It suits me just fine (x2)
|
| This is the package I’m sending
|
| These are the clothes that I’m wearing
|
| These are the words that I’m saying
|
| These are the notes that they’re playing
|
| I’ll introduce you to producers
|
| I’ll write your songs and make them way damn shorter
|
| I’m so confused
|
| This industry has made me cold, you’ll find
|
| I trusted you to make me shine bright
|
| This is almost getting old
|
| And it suits me just fine |