| Verse 1:
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| Welcome to the salvage store, last chance for damaged goods;
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| By now you know the hype was all a lie.
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| You see, I’ve been here for a while, stacking souls in different piles,
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| You can call me caretaker if you like.
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| Chorus 1:
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| Stilettos on the left side, wingtips on my right.
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| The rest of them fall somewhere inbetween.
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| Well we all wear out with use, and our souls take such abuse,
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| Tired shoes, can’t remember what they’ve seen.
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| Verse 2:
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| Every size and color, designer brand or plain,
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| Now they share each others company;
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| You see, I try the best I can, to bring healing with these hands,
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| A second chance before they rest in peace.
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| Repeat Chorus
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| As I watched the old caretaker, wearing sandals made from scraps;
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| It was clear to me I was unworthy to undo their straps
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| Repeat Chours 1
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| Chorus 2:
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| Stilettos on the left side, wingtips on my right
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| The rest of them fall somewhere in between,
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| Well we all wear out with use, and our tounges give such abuse
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| Tired shoes, give your souls to Him |