| There was something in the envelope she passed him
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| That weighed more to him than paper and some ink
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| It had a hint of something darker and a hint of something sweet
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| And a little extra glue right on the tip
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| There was something in the pain that shot right through him
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| As he climbed up to the place he called his home
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| They say every man’s house should be his palace
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| But his castle stank of cat shit and alone
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| So he opened it and found a faded picture
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| Of a girl he’s never met, but somehow seen
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| Like a memory of a dream from early childhood
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| Like a virgin’s idea of release
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| She said «I can bend my arms until they’re backward
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| «But you can’t bend your will to take in mine
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| «And I could hold my breath until next Wednesday
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| «And still be doing fine»
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| He was sad in ways that he couldn’t tell her
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| Though she tried to make his sadness all her own
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| He couldn’t see the use in spreading sadness
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| So he took his dark depression and went home
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| She saw things in him that he never bargained
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| But it wasn’t enough to save either one of them
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| Because she took all that sadness one step further
|
| And left him all alone to face the end |