| I’m still pacing past the locked room
|
| Mistook your hat up on the coat rack for you
|
| Thought for sure you’d come home early
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| To be clear I’ve never understood a word that you said
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| It’s fine till you arrive
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| Till then I’d rather die
|
| Sleeping in the window
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| I’d rather be cold
|
| I’d don’t want to miss you come home
|
| You always make it back
|
| Each time a little worn
|
| And I don’t want to leave it
|
| I’m tired of the feeling
|
| You won’t believe how I sleep or how I don’t
|
| I spent the night inside your sweatshirt
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| It made me warm I thought the heat would bring you back
|
| But I just slept
|
| It’s fine till you arrive
|
| Till then I’d rather die
|
| Sleeping in the window
|
| I’d rather be cold
|
| I’d don’t want to miss you come home
|
| You always make it back
|
| Each time a little worn
|
| And I don’t want to leave it
|
| I’m tired of the feeling
|
| You won’t believe how I sleep or why it’s
|
| Every time the door is shut
|
| Every household noise is us
|
| And all the different floor board creaks
|
| Sound out every vowel of our name
|
| Everyone still talks to me
|
| Like I can ever reciprocate
|
| How am I supposed to be
|
| Flattered when they’re kind to me
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| When all I am is your namesake
|
| You leave behind like an old nickname
|
| I’d like to think that it’s all the same
|
| The usual business and that’s just our end game
|
| Not all of us are kind enough
|
| To wait around while you find yourself again
|
| I’m fine when you arrive
|
| Till then I guess alive
|
| Sleeping in the window
|
| I’d rather be cold
|
| I’d don’t want to miss you come home
|
| You always make it back
|
| Each time a little worn out
|
| And I don’t want to leave it
|
| I’m tired of the feeling
|
| You won’t believe how I sleep or how I don’t |