| If my eyes are not mistaken, and if my eyes are not untruecomes a time when
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| you’ll be aching for more than what is good for you
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| I’ll taste the rhyming words you’re baking, I’ll heat the oven of your youth
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| The corrosion of your naked but mobile need for perfect truth
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| If my eyes don’t tell me lies, cut me down to my own size
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| I’ve been called a jerk before
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| I got a stock of names in store, and maybe more
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| Ain’t nothing new, you can call me your jerk now
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| As if my eyes could be mistaken, as if my eyes could be untrue
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| Nor my vision slowly fading and readily admit it’s true
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| I’ll wait a while till you’ll be aching, I’ll white a wail while waiting too
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| Spread the news about the making of a u-turn point of view
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| No, your eyes ain’t sort of wet, ain’t no corners turning red
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| Always prime time on your mind but only time will help you find
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| Ain’t nobody new, so fire the crew
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| I’ll be glad to be your jerk
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| If you need a finer slice, an every side, a six-point dice
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| I’ll stick my finger in my eyes, I got a gift to fantasize
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| And I don’t need more than only you
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| Why can’t I be your jerk now? |