| This is the soundtrack
|
| To saying goodbye
|
| We are making out
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| With desperate days
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| So turn the volume up high
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| (You love it)
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| God bless repeat — play nights
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| Heartbreaks and fights
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| And all the pretty kids
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| With the tired tired eyes
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| Sitting out parties
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| To be with your headphones
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| Reciting your last words
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| And writing your last notes
|
| This is the soundtrack
|
| To saying goodbye
|
| For feeling cold like December
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| In the middle of July (so fuck it)
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| We are dead flowers
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| And pocket change — me
|
| Forcing smiles — so tragic baby
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| We are the depressed
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| Future heartbreakers
|
| And this is how we sound
|
| Sometimes I just want to fade away
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| With no goodbyes — or anything
|
| I slept right through the yesterdays
|
| 'Cause everybody was in my way
|
| This is the soundtrack
|
| To saying goodbye
|
| We are dropping coins
|
| Into dead payphones
|
| To hear the sound of our voice
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| Just to know we’re alone
|
| And it’s beyond me
|
| Why people couldn’t see
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| We were the true meaning of beauty
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| Hhumming «love»
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| With stiches in our hands
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| So young, I broke a wall with my hand
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| That broke a heart with a pen
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| So young, I was singing
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| «Love» in my head
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| And if you know what I know
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| Then you know that love is dead
|
| We were born just to fade away
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| With no goodbyes — or anything
|
| We slept right through the yesterdays
|
| 'Cause everybody was in our way
|
| Goodbye my loves
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| You can have my heart
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| This is volume three of our tragedy |