| She kills, with foreign films
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| The emptiness of day to day
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| And I wait until the weekend comes
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| So I can clear this uselessness from my brain
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| I count the days until she arrives
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| Those precious minutes when she is mine
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| As we walk from my front door to her car
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| We’re so close and alone
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| But that will disappear
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| In a room filled with the warmth of others…
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| Of others' company
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| There’s just too much company
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| There’s just too much company
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| So I hide my wounded pride
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| And stare off into the other cars
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| If I could just speak the words
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| To tell her exactly how I feel
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| I count the ways that I might say it But I know that none of them will work
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| Because she won’t feel the same
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| We’ve got this far
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| But I can’t go through with it Because the truth would hurt too much
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| It hurts too much
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| This hurts too much
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| She goes back to the west coast
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| To drink in the sunshine
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| And I will stay here in these dead plains
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| And try to make this seed grow
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| And I would pray for rain
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| If I thought that it would help |