| At first you seemed just like my dream
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| Of a finer better life
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| Much more than I could ask for
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| In a lover or a wife
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| Though I work with my body
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| And my work makes my hands rough
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| There are gentle things inside me
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| That are anything but tough
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| There are lessons you could teach me
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| Things I do not know
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| Things I’ve never done, girl
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| And places we could go
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| But you only wear your tailored suits
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| For me to rip and tear
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| Ah, can’t I hold you quietly
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| And smell your perfumed hair?
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| I saw you as the answer
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| That I never dared to dream
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| I saw you as the window
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| Into a world I’d never seen
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| I saw you as the vision
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| Come to raise me from the mud
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| But you came to use my sweat to cool
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| The fever in your blood
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| I’m not Marlon Brando
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| On his motorcycle bike
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| When you call me your animal
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| It’s a name I do not like
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| Please do not tear my back
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| Yes, of course I bleed
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| The violence you thirst for
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| Is not what I need
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| Your silken skin is armor
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| That begs for brutal hands
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| But why can’t I be gentle
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| And tell you of my plans?
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| I know that you’re using me
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| Not I just using you
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| And you’re not so scared
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| Of losing me as I losing you
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| At first you seemed… |