| I wish you would have changed the locks
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| To keep me from replaying
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| All the feelings I’ve been saving
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| I did not keep them locked up inside
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| I did not take my steps in stride
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| Thought you were bluffing, trampled on you
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| Went from friends to nothing
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| Radio turns to gold
|
| And paves the way
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| To find my home
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| When I’m alone
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| Overeager and underway
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| I risked it all, I had to say
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| What opened me up for the beating
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| But the heart is for bleeding
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| With scraps of songs I paste along
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| The seams of my clumsy tongue
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| In hopes of creating the golden notes
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| That might bring you back to me
|
| Radio turns to gold
|
| And paves the way
|
| To find my home
|
| When I’m alone
|
| Like phantoms on the highway
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| After holiday, gritting their teeth
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| Racing to find a place for their soul
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| Or at least a place… that’s less familiar
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| We offer up our heart before
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| The heart’s invited or asked for
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| Oh no, here I go my friend, I’m repeating
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| But the heart is for bleeding…
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| And I’ve said all I can say
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| I am retreating, on my way
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| Music box, play my song I’ll sing along
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| To that bitterly sweet tone
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| When I’m alone… |