| This ruined puzzle is beige with the pieces all face down
|
| so the placing goes slowly.
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| The picture’s of anything other than it’s mean to be.
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| But the hours they creep,
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| the patterns repeat.
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| Don’t be concerned, you know I’ll be fine on my own.
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| I never said «don't go.»
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| I’ve hidden a note,
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| it’s pressed between pages that you’ve marked to find your way back.
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| It says, «Does he ever get the girl?»
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| But what if the pages stay pressed,
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| the chapters unfinished,
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| the storied too dull to unfold?
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| Does he ever get the girl?
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| This basement’s a coffin.
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| I’m buried alive.
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| I’ll die in here just to be safe.
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| I’ll die in here just to be safe.
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| 'Cause you’re gone.
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| I get nothing
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| and you’re off with barely a sigh.
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| I never said, «Goodbye.»
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| but I’ve hidden a note,
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| it’s pressed between pages that you’ve marked to find your way back.
|
| It says, «Does he ever get the girl?»
|
| but I’ve hidden a note,
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| it’s pressed between pages that you’ll read if you’re so inclined.
|
| It says, «Does he ever get the girl?»
|
| But the hours they creep,
|
| the patterns repeat.
|
| Don’t be concerned, you know I’ll be fine on my own.
|
| I never said «don't go.»
|
| Does he ever get the girl? |