| Everybody’s asking where did you go?
|
| This gonna be my masterpiece
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| The paint’s not even dry yet, oh no
|
| Everybody’s asking where did you go?
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| This gonna be my masterpiece
|
| The paint’s not even dry yet, oh no
|
| I could trace the outline of a shadow
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| I need blood and breath
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| To mix my colours
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| Where did you go?
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| After you promised me a portrait
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| Took off your clothers, held a pose
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| Drawing youour arms, your hands and vens and fingers and your lips
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| Broken nose
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| On your eyes, so just stare into the distance
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| Please don’t move
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| Whatever you do
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| While i’m adding the blue
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| I know i’m not monet or van gogh
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| I can’t draw like S. Clay Wilson
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| You got insede the brush
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| That chips with red
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| I can’t draw from memories or photos
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| I need blood and breath
|
| But you left me nothing
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| Closed this chapter yesterday
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| Take this page and throw it away
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| Fill the holes in
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| Sand the wall
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| You were never here at all
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| The warmth where someone never stood
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| Promises were never good
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| The smell of human sweat and tears
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| A passing thought
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| The paing year baby |