| All alone
|
| On the floor
|
| Next to your twin-bed box-spring and mattress
|
| The door
|
| Is ajar
|
| From afar
|
| You can hear bands practicing
|
| And When they dream they all
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| Dream of somebody like you
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| Somebody who takes what they make
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| Twice as seriously as they could ever hope to do And when you dream
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| You dream of a day…
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| When you find something you could love half as much
|
| As you love all your little round mirrors
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| See yourself reflected in one, there’s a hole in the middle
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| You can’t seem to fill
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| Bring them home
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| Watch them go All you know is you hope they’ll hurry back
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| And you cry
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| Then you lie your frail body down
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| Like a penny on a railroad track
|
| And even if they stay in touch
|
| The past stays in the past
|
| But every time
|
| You crash a little bit harder than the last
|
| And every time you crash don’t you
|
| Wanna find something you could love
|
| Half as much as you love all your little round mirrors
|
| See yourself reflected in one
|
| There’s a hole in the middle you can’t seem to fill
|
| A shooting star is A little piece of Cosmic debree desperately wanting to fall to earth
|
| It doesn’t get too far
|
| It’s not a real star
|
| It’s hardly even worth footnotes in your memoir
|
| Shoulder to shoulder
|
| Up on our tip-toes
|
| Chewing our fingers
|
| And craning our necks
|
| Just to see
|
| Quite the collection
|
| Divide by section
|
| It’s just a surrogate connection leaving you all alone
|
| On the floor next to your twin-bed box-spring and mattress
|
| The door
|
| Still ajar
|
| There you are and now you’re coming to stay until
|
| You can find someone who will love you as much
|
| As you love all your little round mirrors
|
| Murdering your time in cold blood
|
| There’s a whole in the middle you can’t seem to fill |