| The early cars
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| Already are
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| Drawing deep breaths past my door
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| And last night’s phrases
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| Sick with lack of basis
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| Are still writhing on my floor
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| And it doesn’t seem fair
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| That your wicked words should work
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| In holding me down
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| No, it doesn’t seem right
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| To take information
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| Given at close range
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| For the gag
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| And the bind
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| And the ammunition round
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| Conversation once colored by esteem
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| Became dialogue as a diagram of a play for pun (blood?)
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| Took a vacation, my palate got clean
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| Now I could taste your agenda
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| While you’re spitting your cud
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| And it doesn’t make sense
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| I should fall for the kingcraft of a meritless crown
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| No, it doesn’t seem right
|
| To take information
|
| Given at close range
|
| For the gag
|
| And the bind
|
| And the ammunition round
|
| This is not about love
|
| 'Cause I am not in love
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| In fact I can’t stop falling out
|
| This is not about love
|
| 'Cause I am not in love
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| In fact I can’t stop falling out
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| I miss that stupid ache
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| What is this posture
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| I have to stare at That’s what he said when I’m sittin' up straight
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| Change the name of the game 'cause he lost
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| And he knew he was wrong but he knew it too late
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| But I’m not being fair
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| 'Cause I chose to listen to that filthy mouth
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| But I’d like to choose right
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| Take all the things that I’ve said that he stole
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| Put 'em in a sack
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| Swing 'em over my shoulder
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| Turn on my heels
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| Step out of this sight
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| Try to live in a lovelier life
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| This is not about love
|
| 'Cause I am not in love
|
| In fact I cant stop falling out
|
| This is not about love
|
| 'Cause I am not in love
|
| In fact i cant stop falling out
|
| I miss that stupid ache |