| In all good faith and sentiment
|
| I can’t believe somehow
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| That I haven’t died of grief or something
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| Since you left this town
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| I’m all undecorated, cigarettes
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| And standard white apartment walls
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| At 3 AM and 4 AM
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| It’s impossible to sleep
|
| I’d do anything to hold you
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| And feel you next to me
|
| But I’m all sore eyes and beasts
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| At my back door, pulling out their claws
|
| So yes I will take those
|
| Whatever else they give me
|
| If it stops the nightmares
|
| It probably won’t kill me
|
| And if I slow it down I’ll end up on one of my accusers' knives
|
| So I only stop to tell her that I love her at the red lights
|
| And all in all, I’m wrecked you see
|
| From years of piping down
|
| And piping up about the things
|
| That never mattered anyhow
|
| When you change too much you lose yourself
|
| And sometimes you just don’t get them back
|
| And you might be an angel or devil I don’t know
|
| But if in fact you are now love
|
| Well I’ve been there before
|
| I’ve fallen on my face
|
| And I’ve been burned so near to death I probably won’t live through it
|
| Anyhow
|
| So yes I will take those
|
| Whatever else they give me
|
| If it stops the nightmares
|
| It probably won’t kill me
|
| And if I slow it down I’ll end up on one of my accusers' knives
|
| So I only stop to tell her that I love her at the red lights |