| I called you and got what I deserved
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| Heard that laughing in your words
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| I wish that I could photograph my moods
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| Show them to you
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| Just to prove
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| Something
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| Down in the town I’m trying to prove something
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| But the clock hands won’t move
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| So I’ll go on singing about the same thing
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| And reading myself into books
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| The roadside buildings are black-eyed and aged
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| They can’t see me anymore
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| How would I mean anything to anything
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| Now I am not the hues in your city square puddles?
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| But when he touched my hand like it was gold
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| I want to pull away and say
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| 'look, it's only…
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| It’s only made from plain old skin and bone
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| Don’t try to give me credit you don’t owe me !'
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| You’ve got your eye on the door
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| This is what my life is for now
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| I’ll pray the you won’t drop your anchor here
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| We’ll share our anecdotes saved from last time we spoke
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| We’ll never change
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| Let’s go out for a drive in your car
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| We don’t have to go that far
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| Let’s try to find a road that we don’t know
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| 'Till we don’t know where we are
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| And I can smell the bonfires in the street |
| I want to say that I love you… love you
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| But you’ve got your eye on the door
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| This is what my life is for now
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| I’ll pray that you won’t drop your anchor here
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| We’ll share out anecdotes saved from last time we spoke
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| We’ll never change |