| I changed the lock on my front door
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| So you can’t see me anymore
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| And you can’t come inside my house
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| And you can’t lie down on my couch
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| I changed the lock on my front door
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| I changed the number on my phone
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| So you can’t call me up at home
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| And you can’t say those things to me That make me fall down on my knees
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| I changed the nunmber on my phone
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| Cause I changed the kind of car I drive
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| So you can’t see me when I go by
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| And you can’t chase me up the street
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| And you can’t knock me off of my feet
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| I changed the kind of car I drive
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| I changed the kind of clothes I wear
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| So you can’t find me anywhere
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| You can’t spot me in a crowd
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| And you can’t call my name out loud
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| I changed the kind of clothes I wear
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| I changed the tracks underneath the train
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| So you can’t find me ever again
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| And you can’t trace my path
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| And you can’t hear me laugh
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| And honey I’m laughing all the time
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| I changed the name of this town
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| So you can’t follow me down
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| And you can’t touch me like before
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| And you can’t make me want you more |