| You got a quick snap-lock on your cold, cold heart
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| You got your YSL kicks and a red birthmark
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| In the shape of Canada
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| That you try to keep a secret
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| You got a quick, clack walk and a cold hard stare
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| And if your eyes could talk, they’d say they just don’t care
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| Before they wander off
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| To hide inside their sockets
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| You’ve got your scars and you’ve got your birthmarks
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| You’ve got Toronto hiding on your hip, honey
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| You’ve got your secrets, you’ve got your regrets
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| Darling, we all do
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| You got a fool-proof plan for a lonely life
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| You won’t be no one’s daughter and a drunk man’s wife
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| If a wife at all, it’s a silly institution
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| Or so you keep insisting
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| You’ve got your scars and you’ve got your birthmarks
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| You’ve got Toronto hiding on your hip, honey
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| You’ve got your secrets, you’ve got your regrets
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| Darling, we all do
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| You’re cool, coy, about your strawberry hip
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| It’s you that’s hidden by the expectations
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| We want to see you
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| Won’t you show us where to start?
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| You’re talking trash with your red liquor lips
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| It’s skews the tempo in the conversation
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| Sweet Betty
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| Won’t you show us who you are?
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| You’ve got your scars and you’ve got your birthmarks
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| You’ve got Toronto hiding on your hip, honey
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| You’ve got your secrets, you’ve got your regrets
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| Darling, we all do
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| You’ve got a quick snap-lock on your cold, cold heart |