| Got drunk on Friday night, woke up Sunday morning
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| His bag’s by the front door, there’s no final warning
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| She thrown in all his clothes and all reasoning’s out
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| It’s the silence that killed him, he wished to God she’d shout
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| When you’re a man, it’s hard to see why
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| When you’re a man, you’re not allowed to cry
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| There’s a crack in the mirror, there’s blood on the floor
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| There’s an empty bottle of vodka that says you’re not needed any more
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| There’s a crack in the mirror, there’s a bullet in his head
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| There’s a note by his side that says without you I’m as good as dead
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| With tears in his eyes, he was too proud to show
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| He said «shall I call you», her shrug told him no
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| Why can’t she forget, why won’t she forgive
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| It’s not what he planned, it’s just what he did
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| When you’re a man, it’s hard to see why
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| When you’re a man, you’re not allowed to cry
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| There’s a crack in the mirror, there’s blood on the floor
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| There’s an empty bottle of vodka that says you’re not needed any more
|
| There’s a crack in the mirror, there’s a bullet in his head
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| There’s a note by his side that says without you I’m as good as dead |