| Why didn’t you call?
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| My phone’s always on
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| Why didn’t you call?
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| Before you got gone
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| And I don’t know for certain what I would have said
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| But now I am helplessly silent instead
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| There’s a hole in my heart and in my head
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| Why didn’t you call?
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| Why didn’t you say something?
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| On the last time we met
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| Why didn’t you say something?
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| There’s always hope left.
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| And I can’t say for certain what I would have done
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| But I can’t do anything now that you’re gone
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| And it kills me to think
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| For a second
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| You thought you were alone
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| You can measure the mark of a man on the day that he dies
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| In the mixture of memory and wreckage that he leaves behind
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| And I know you were carrying too much weight
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| On the evening when you slipped away
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| But I loved you like a brother man and I never really had a chance to say
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| So at half past nine each evening
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| I’ll think of my friend
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| And at half past nine I’ll remember
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| You were better than your end
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| 'Cause I too have stood up on that ledge
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| But I know you would have pulled me back down from the edge
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| And I let you down in your darkness
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| I wasn’t there
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| So I’ll remember you making a hole through the kids in the crowd
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| And I’ll remember you lifting me up each time I fell down
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| And I’ll glance at the barrier when I watch in the band
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| And I’ll expect to see you there stood on the foot stand
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| But I guess I will see someone else
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| And that’s when I’ll whisper to myself
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| Brother, I miss you like hell. |