| With the conviction of the woman you made me
|
| I find blades of grass from the island you lent me
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| I find on every floor, in every drawer
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| Though I’m not an island, I’m a body of water
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| Jeweled in the evening, a solitary daughter
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| If picked at by noon, by midnight I’m ruined
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| Leave me alone to the books and the radio snow
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| Leave me alone to the charcoal and the dancing shadow
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| If each blade of grass was meant here for me
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| Split apart, sliced, and wedged in for me
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| Who’s gonna treat it?
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| I’m not going to need it
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| I am a lake
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| Don’t need to be watered
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| I am an ocean
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| I don’t need to barter
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| I play with the moon
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| My only friend
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| It pushes it pulls me
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| I don’t pay rent
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| I don’t need the walls
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| To bury my grave
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| I don’t need your company
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| To feel saved
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| I don’t need the sunlight
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| My curtains don’t draw
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| I don’t need objects
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| To keep or to pawn
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| I don’t want your pity
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| Concern or your scorn
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| I’m calm by my lonesome
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| I feel right at home
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| And when the wind blows
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| I get to dancing
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| My fun is the rhythm of air
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| When it’s prancing
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| Leave me alone to the books and the radio snow
|
| Leave me alone to the charcoal and the dancing shadow |