| He invited me in;
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| Said his name was Jesse and to take a look around
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| I found my coat at the bottom of the closet, dug it out
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| The only thing that she left
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| There in the middle of the room, was the couch
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| She’d always hated the pattern or the texture
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| I can’t remember it now
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| I relived those nights there breaking down
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| I guess I’ll see myself out
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| You kept me waiting like the G Train
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| I held the door open for hours. |
| I had to walk away
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| I rode the A line out to Rockaway
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| I’m always drawn to the water
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| Walked the streets to the shore
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| Passed by the murals fading off of the walls
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| Still licking the fresh wounds from a hurricane in the fall
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| And I watch them rebuild
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| I hummed a Ramone’s song out of key
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| Staring off at the skyline over shorebreak
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| And remembering that this same ocean almost killed me
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| South Carolina, seafoam green
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| You kept me waiting like the G Train
|
| I held the door open for hours. |
| I had to walk away
|
| I rode the A line out to Rockaway
|
| I’m always drawn to the water
|
| I felt the weight
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| On a calendar long enough, all my grief starts to decay
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| On a calendar long enough it grows more useless by the day
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| And I read that on a calendar long enough
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| New York will be returned to the sea
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| When the water gets high enough, it’ll take back everything
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| So the subway and the G Train
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| Our apartment, all our memories
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| Come to rest there under water
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| All the things that I thought meant the most to me
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| I try to picture it-- just the top of the skyline at low tide
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| Piercing the surface as the ships try to navigate their lanes
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| And there alone and triumphant on the crest of a wave
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| Is the couch you gave away |