| My eyes are getting weary of crowds and busy streets
|
| I close them in the morning, pretend I’m still asleep
|
| My hair is growing slowly, the sun keeps moving on
|
| But nothing fades completely, burnt image when it’s gone
|
| I step across the stories that seep beneath my feet
|
| A blueprint for a memory laid out on the street
|
| I’m making paper flowers that fall on to the ground
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| And hope that they get found
|
| Have me, have me not
|
| Can’t give me what I’ve already got
|
| You wear me, I’ll wear you out
|
| Like one more patch on my jeans
|
| Too young for feeling heavy, too old to play the game
|
| The pieces come together, no two pieces the same
|
| But I’m no longer weary, my eyes are open wide
|
| And one more day has gone by
|
| Have me, have me not
|
| Can’t give me what I’ve already got
|
| You wear me, I’ll wear you out
|
| Like one more patch on my jeans
|
| We fall, we fall
|
| We fall apart at the seams
|
| We fall, we fall
|
| We fall apart at the seams
|
| We fall
|
| Have me, have me not
|
| Can’t give me what I’ve already got
|
| You wear me, I’ll wear you out
|
| Like one more patch on my jeans
|
| Have me, have me not
|
| Can’t give me what I’ve already got
|
| You wear me, I’ll wear you out
|
| Like one more patch on my jeans
|
| Like one more patch
|
| Like one more patch on my jeans |