| You told me so openly, love
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| That I’m all you’ve been thinking of
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| You wouldn’t go back on that now
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| You followed along from the start
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| And all that you brought was your heart
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| A pumping machine in your chest
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| And, this is how it is. |
| This is how it is
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| I’m turning off the telephone
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| The thermostat inside my home
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| I’ll have the mail held back for weeks
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| And still this is no guarantee
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| I’m doing everything I can
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| I’m letting the temperature drop
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| And hoping this clicking might stop
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| The chemical balance is off
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| You traded your heart machine in
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| For one on the television
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| The hours and dollars you spend
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| And, this is how it is. |
| This is how it is
|
| This is how it is
|
| This is how it is. |
| This is how it is
|
| This is how it is
|
| I’m turning off the telephone
|
| The thermostat inside my home
|
| I’ll have the mail held back for weeks
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| And burn the furniture for heat
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| I’m doing everything I can
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| You’re hanging like the Hindenburg
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| Inside my head
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| I’m putting out the fire
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| But it’s not looking good
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| I don’t believe a word you say
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| Can California be that great? |