| One set of doors was the color of honey
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| One set of doors was pink and grey
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| Well I wonder which set is mine, said she
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| As she walked down the long hallway
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| Well I wonder which set of rooms are mine
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| For in these rooms she would live and die
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| Well it’s better to have loved and lost
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| (Ah but it’s better not to lose)
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| Then to never have loved at all
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| (Never have loved, never have loved at all)
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| Well it’s better to have loved and lost
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| (Ah but it’s better not to lose)
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| Then to always be alone
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| (Always be alone)
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| In your heart
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| I thought that there was more involved
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| Through all that time and all these months
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| I stopped many times to question you
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| Well I told you that it was the right thing to do
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| But I knew that this was just for now
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| And the time would take its toll upon us all
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| Well it would break our hearts
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| Tear it apart
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| But no one understood
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| The affairs of the heart
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| Well it’s better to have loved and lost
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| Then to never have loved at all
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| (Never have loved, never have loved at all)
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| Well it’ll break your heart
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| Tear it apart
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| But no one understands
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| (No one understands)
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| The affairs of the heart |