| She was a real royal lady, true patron of the arts
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| She said the best country singers die in the back of classic cars
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| So if I ever got too hungry for a suitcase or guitar
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| To think of them all alone in the dark
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| So I laid some nights beside her in a bed made for a queen
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| She said I kissed her different, that all the men her age were mean
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| Gave me anything I wanted, Oh the generosity
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| I took all that I could, it was free
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| Now the sky is a torn up denim and the clouds are just splattered paint
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| It’s a room I’m renovating; |
| it’s a name I got to change
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| If I get out of California I’m going back to my home state
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| To tell them all that I made a mistake
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| And I keep looking for that blindfold faith
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| Lighting candles to a cynical saint
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| Who wants the last laugh at the fly trapped in the windowsill tape
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| You can go right out of your mind trying to escape
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| From the panicked paradox of day to day
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| If you can’t understand something then it’s best to be afraid
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| The whole world it loves you if you are a chic chameleon
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| Intersecting circles she could hang with anyone
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| But when conducting business she would lie about where she’s from
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| Saying, «Life is how it is not how it was»
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| I l earned to listen felt like I was back at school
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| She’d talk forever about the phases of the moon
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| Saying, «Everything is a cycle, you’ve got to let it come to you
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| And when it does, you will know what to do»
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| Without even knowing I guess I took her advice
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| Painted her front door it seemed a suitable goodbye
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| It’s not that often but I think of her sometimes
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| Just something quaint, a couple ships in the night
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| And they keep moving at a glacial pace
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| Turning circles in a memory maze
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| I made a new cast of the death mask that is gonna cover my face
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| I had to change the combination to the safe
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| Hide it all behind a wall let people wait
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| And never trust a heart that is so bent it can’t break |