| Guitar fell out of time, missed you when you were mine
|
| Snowflake auld lang syne wept from the 7 line
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| Thought bout something you said in '02 and slept on the tarmac
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| O, got a text from you out the blue well whatcha call that
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| It’s just a photograph
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| You catch her mid laugh
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| It’s just a furtive stab
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| Into the curtained past
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| Cus in the photographs
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| You lit a bogue then ashed
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| Into the water splash
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| And batted long black lashes 'to the camera flash
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| 1979 asian children crying
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| Nixon had resigned and the pretty fathers pined
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| For days spent grillin dr pibb out in the guard shack
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| Mrs hansen will you take me till death do and all that
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| It’s just a photograph
|
| You catch her mid laugh
|
| It’s just a furtive stab
|
| Into the curtained past
|
| Cus in the photographs
|
| The kings of queens yelped brash
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| And ordered guinness drafts
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| And she smiled then laughed ordered something on my tab
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| Countless boroughs filled with bars all that matters is the scars doc is
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| criminal as charged burn your tongue its metal forks burn the young its |
| metaphors burn your skin its agent orange, apples sprinkled in the porridge
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| I don’t know where you are, daddy loan me your car baby where did you park,
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| darkened parking garage, babe what happened to us, long pained look where’s
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| the trust, gets tinged up with the lust, zipper down then you fuck just then a
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| passing truck |