| Hello my pretty have the years not been so kind to you
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| It sounds little safe enough but it’s a reflection of the
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| Things that we use to do it
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| I remember them well
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| Weren’t you surprised to find year book
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| It’s just a version of hell
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| To what do we owe the honor?
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| I thought by now that we could leave it all behind
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| The never ending endeavor
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| With no point to find
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| So by and by
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| The pound that may be fine
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| The case so anyway
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| You think you need to save the face (faith)
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| Or maybe you, would like to see
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| The tug of war that goes on inside of me
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| Well it depends, my point of view
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| And which is which, and maybe just who is who
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| Well keep them straight, don’t cross them up
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| Cause either way you know you’ll never reach the top
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| Yearbooks are scattered, all across the bedroom floor
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| And if you’ve got a minute
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| She’ll gladly show you some
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| Boy’s the least to need it
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| I’ll be the first to say
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| She’ll think that you don’t mean it
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| Cause she’s to feelin ok
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| To what do we owe the honor?
|
| I thought by now that we could leave it all behind
|
| The never ending endeavor
|
| With no point to find
|
| So by and by
|
| The pound that may be fine
|
| The case so anyway
|
| You think you need to save the faith
|
| Or maybe you, would like to see
|
| The tug of war that goes on inside of me
|
| Well it depends, my point of view
|
| And which is which, and maybe just who is who
|
| Well keep them straight, don’t cross them up
|
| Cause either way you know you’ll never reach the top
|
| So by and by
|
| The pound that may be fine
|
| The case so anyway
|
| You think you need to save the face
|
| Or maybe you, would like to see
|
| The tug of war that goes on inside of me |