| You’re blowing through the home like a hurricane
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| Shooting through the rooms like a bullet train
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| Oh no, looking for what you shouldn’t
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| You’re going to wish you didn’t
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| You can find pleasure in the crux of pain
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| It seems you’ve find a way to dance on your own grave
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| You’re digging deeper when you say:
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| Come out, come out
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| I heard such shouting from the wings
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| I know you’re up there
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| Lurking … watching …
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| We could play a game of hot and cold
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| Your fingers nearly froze looking through those old photos
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| It ain’t a memory you’re seeking
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| It’s more like a feeling
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| Inspiration’s a funny thing
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| The more the mind wilts, the more of a wellspring
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| You’re getting warmer when you sing:
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| Come out, come out
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| Don’t be so proud, so obstinate
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| I know you’re up there
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| Out, come out
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| Before I doubt your existence
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| You must be somewhere
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| Out, come out
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| Unveil this shroud wherever you are
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| Whoever you are, or should I say, whatever you are
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| I am, you are, oh-oh, oh-oh
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| I AM! |
| I AM!
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| Warmer, warmer, house on fire
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| Warmer, warmer, cut the telephone wire
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| Warmer, warmer, cried the farmer’s wife
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| Warmer, warmer, with a carving knife
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| Warmer, warmer, squealed the little pig
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| Warmer, warmer, let me in
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| Warmer, warmer! |
| You’re getting hot
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| Warmer, warmer! |
| You’re burning up
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| Warmer, warmer, or have you had enough? |