| Ariella, 7:30, I don’t want to get up yet
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| Listen to the morning music, cursing the alarm you set
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| As you know, I’ve never been a praying man
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| I don’t need a God to make me feel all right
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| But if you wonder why I never wrote you a song
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| It’s because happiness writes white
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| I try to put it into words, but the words just sound like mistakes
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| I try to find a set of chords, but you know how long that takes me
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| I can’t trust my fingers, I can’t trust my tongue
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| The work is too important and we’re no longer young, after all
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| When I consider what you put up with I’m amazed you still have skin
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| When I consider what you mean to me, it’s everything
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| It’s everything
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| Ariella, 11:30, I don’t want to go to sleep
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| Turn the TV off already, curse the hours we have to keep
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| As you know, I’ve never been a confident man
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| I’ve been in the tall grass all my life
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| Until you came along; |
| now there’s one less thing wrong
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| Even though happiness writes white
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| I know happiness writes white
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| I know happiness writes white
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| Ariella are you sleeping? |