| She was cuffed to the truth like the truth was a chair
|
| Bright interrogation light in her eyes
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| Her conscience lit a cigarette and just stood there
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| Waiting for her to crack
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| Waiting for her to cry
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| His face scampered through her mind
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| Like a roach across a wall
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| It made her heart soar
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| It made her skin crawl
|
| They said, we got this confession we just need for you to sign
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| Why don’t you just cooperate and make this easier on us all
|
| There was light and then there was darkness
|
| But there was no line in between
|
| And asking her heart for guidance
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| Was like pleading with a machine
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| 'cause joy, it has its own justice
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| And dreams are languid and lawless
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| And everything bows to beauty
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| When it is fierce
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| And when it is flawless
|
| On the table were two ziploc baggies
|
| Containing her eyes and her smile
|
| They said, we’re keeping these as evidence
|
| 'til this thing goes to trial
|
| Meanwhile anguish was fingering solace
|
| In another room down the hall
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| Both were love’s accomplices
|
| But solace took the fall
|
| Now look at her book of days
|
| It’s the same on every page
|
| And she’s got a little tin cup with her heart in it
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| To bang along the bars of her rib cage
|
| Bang along the bars of her rib cage |