| I’m not the kind of guy to give it up
|
| A history of reasons won’t make me stop
|
| Or the colour of your skin
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| Or the colour of my eyes when you’re looking at him
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| I would do it again, I’d do it again, I’d do it again
|
| When it’s you and I
|
| I’m unpacking and you’re leaving on another red-eye
|
| Goodbye
|
| Time never seems to wait
|
| In line when everything’s at stake
|
| But I won’t have the final say
|
| They’ll be rollin' in their graves
|
| Watchin' your mistakes from the wake
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| I’m not the kind of guy to put up a front
|
| But touch what isn’t yours and I’ll fuck you up
|
| You’re a sinner or saint
|
| And nothing in between will cover the stains
|
| I would do it again, I’d do it again, I’d do it again
|
| When it’s fight or die
|
| But you’re dying as you’re fighting cause you’re just a fist shy
|
| I would do it again, I’d do it again, I’d do it again
|
| When it’s you and I
|
| I’m unpacking and you’re leaving on another red-eye
|
| Goodbye
|
| Time never seems to wait
|
| In line when everything’s at stake
|
| But I won’t have the final say
|
| They’ll be rollin' in their graves
|
| Watchin' your mistakes from the wake
|
| I was a foster child in Southern England
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| I was a merchant in India
|
| Powerful, impatient
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| I was a little girl in dresses
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| Innocent, deceptive
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| It won’t leave me be
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| Oh, you can run
|
| You can run
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| You can run |