| So who was first?
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| Obviously not me
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| She’s locked up inside herself
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| And I can’t get anything free
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| So won’t somebody tell me please
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| Why the former owner always keeps the keys
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| There’s no bubbles to burst
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| No bursting out crying nor dying of thirst
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| She’s utterly tied to somebody else
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| And it seems he got there first
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| And No, I’m not untying
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| The reins around her neck that she feels
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| And I won’t try to prise out of her the truth anymore
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| When she lies about the things that she sees
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| Because the former owner always keeps the keys
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| There’s no calling
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| «Come here, you’re necessary to me.»
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| There’s no excitement in her face when I implore
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| «Corrupt me and confess to me some more.»
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| And when we hear trees falling or see people disappearing
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| Her emotions won’t be reached or released
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| Because the former owner is keeping the keys
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| Like a ticket inspector running for a bus
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| Irony’s revenge surrounds us
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| And it’s ironic that he promised you he’d never let you go
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| When he’s left you used-up and disturbed
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| And I said «Just as the early bird catches the worm
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| The early cat catches the bird»
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| But that former owner is keeping his word |