| When you laughed at my plan
|
| And you mocked all my words
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| I knew then you were worse, you’d forgotten to love
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| In your hands, in your hands, my heart
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| And the sun was unclean
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| And the morning the same
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| Contorting in the dark
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| In the bedroom you made
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| A fuss of the stars, too bright for your eyes
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| In your hands, my heart
|
| And the morning’s your curse
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| And the sun still unwashed
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| Oh, we loved till it hurt
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| It was crushing me, love
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| In the night, I knew was the last
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| In your hands, in your hands, my heart
|
| And, of course, you went there
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| Like vertigo on a bridge
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| The river drunk howling like dogs
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| And I, running on fumes, spat flames till it scarred you
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| «Fall away! |
| Go! |
| Find your escape route!»
|
| In your hands, in your hands, my heart
|
| When you sheltered yourself
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| And cut off the phone
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| Well, I knew then you weren’t hurt
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| You’ve forgotten how to love
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| Oh the artist shall suffer
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| 'Cause he’s scratching his back
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| Till there’s blood in his nails
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| Well you make yourself ill with the lies that you tell
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| Still, in your hands, in your hands, my heart
|
| My heart, my heart, my heart |