| You can tell the world you never was my girl
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| You can burn my clothes when I’m gone
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| Or you can tell your friends just what a fool I’ve been
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| And laugh and joke about me on the phone
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| You can tell my arms, go back onto the phone
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| You can tell my feet to hit the floor
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| Or you can tell my lips to tell my fingertips
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| They won’t be reaching out for you no more
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| But don’t tell my heart, my achy breaky heart
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| I just don’t think it’d understand
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| And if you tell my heart, my achy breaky heart
|
| He might blow up and kill this man
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| You can tell your Ma I moved to Arkansas
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| You can tell your dog to bite my leg
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| Or tell your brother Cliff who’s fist can tell my lips
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| He never really liked me anyway
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| Oh tell your aunt Louise, tell anything you please
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| Myself already knows that I’m not okay
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| Oh you can tell my eyes to watch out for my mind
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| It might be walking out on me today
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| Don’t tell my heart, my achy breaky heart
|
| I just don’t think it’d understand
|
| And if you tell my heart, my achy breaky heart
|
| He might blow up and kill this man
|
| Don’t tell my heart, my achy breaky heart
|
| I just don’t think it’d understand
|
| And if you tell my heart, my achy breaky heart
|
| He might blow up and kill this man
|
| Don’t tell my heart, my achy breaky heart
|
| I just don’t think it’d understand
|
| And if you tell my heart, my achy breaky heart
|
| He might blow up and kill this man |