| So thoroughly convinced that the product of persistence
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| Was a love that I’d been told of when I was just a kid
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| I was wed to my misery in the hope that at the ceremony
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| You’d interject, but you never did
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| Now seven years on, bitter and resentful
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| I still contemplate what I did to deserve
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| The glimpses of affection you used to distract me
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| As you were filing my teeth to the nerve
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| I know you were the death of me, but still in spite of everything
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| I hope that you are finding sleep while I still lay awake
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| Although my throat is burning now, it’s still so quiet in the house
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| The emptiness you occupied is more than I can take
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| Tell me, are you ashamed?
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| 'Cause I felt alone and you watched as I decayed
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| I slipped through your hands as I faded
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| I’ve tried to forget
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| But your love will make a museum of me yet
|
| I hope you know how long I’ve waited
|
| Though reservoirs of self-disgust have swollen up inside my lungs
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| Pulmonary Oedema is no substitute for love that once lay its head upon my chest
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| A comfort cradled motionless, but I have come undone
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| My love is not enough
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| I know it’s hard to watch your light fade from my eyes, but darling for my sake
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| you’ve got to let it die
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| My weathered hands have dug this grave enough
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| It’s time for us to bury our love
|
| Tell me, are you ashamed?
|
| 'Cause I felt alone and you watched as I decayed
|
| I slipped through your hands as I faded
|
| I’ve tried to forget
|
| But your love will make a museum of me yet
|
| I hope you know how long I’ve waited |