| The end result of so many meetings
|
| At late night diners with no one eating
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| We sit in corners and sip burnt coffee
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| Count the tiles up on the ceiling
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| Skip this pretense and cut straight to dying
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| Don’t beg me to keep your eyes from cryin
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| You said so much
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| Without ever parting your lips
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| It’s past 3 A.M. |
| and I’m still far from sleep
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| And this is a habit that I can’t break
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| You’re my only company
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| I’m skipping stones
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| And the street lights flicker like this match in my hand
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| The street lights flicker like this match in my hand
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| And the street lights flicker like this match in my hand
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| Begging to strike
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| Begging to strike
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| And I keep repeating but this payphone tele stopped receiving
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| Flat out of change now
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| I’m sure you won’t accept the charges
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| It’s all the same cause by the morning I’ll be halfway to
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| Colorado or some place like that
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| You said so much
|
| Without ever parting your lips
|
| Past 3 A.M. |
| and I’m still far from sleep
|
| And this is a habit that I can’t break
|
| You’re my only company
|
| I’m skipping stones down a dull suburban street
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| And she keeps on asking, Do you think it hurts much to die?
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| It’s hurting so much more to stay alive now
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| She is going to find out how much it hurts to die
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| She laces her perfume up with death
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| I feel it in my lungs
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| So I pull in the deepest breath
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| And drop my head… |