| Ours is not a sweet love
|
| Ours is not a flame that burns like heaven so nice
|
| Don’t look in my eyes or I’ll tell you twice
|
| It’s really complicated
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| Ours is not a sweet goodbye
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| Ours is not a fear that melts like ice
|
| So use your heart like a homing device
|
| And tell it to me later
|
| Suddenly there’s no «There, there»
|
| And you’re throwing me another blank stare
|
| 'Cause we use the same products for our hair
|
| For our hair
|
| Ours is not a sweet lullaby
|
| Ours is not a dream that falls on innocent eyes
|
| Consider mulling over my sage advice
|
| And get a new computer
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| Ours is not a home sweet home
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| Ours is not a street that leads to paradise
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| So hard to breathe with my balls in a vice
|
| I really should be going
|
| Suddenly neither one of us cares
|
| That the rules are so unfair
|
| 'Cause we use the same products for our hair
|
| For our hair
|
| Ours is not a golden age
|
| Ours is not a time that will be remembered as wise
|
| So hang your heads and watch as it dies
|
| And lose my phone number
|
| 'Cause we are made of passing dreams
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| We are here to entertain a sick deity
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| To procreate with a demon seed
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| But I swear it gets better
|
| Suddenly the man upstairs
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| Comes down to get some air
|
| And we hope he likes what we’ve done to our hair
|
| To our hair
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| (One two three four, one two three four)
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| (One two three four, one two three four)
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| (One two three four, one two three four)
|
| (One two three four, one two three four) |