| But when I think of you and me
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| It’s hard to feel that way
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| Though you’ve gone
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| You still think you’re welcome here
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| I’ve moved on
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| You are not my puppeteer, my dear
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| If my doorbell rings
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| You’ll learn a few unpleasant things
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| And you can’t pull my strings for sympathy
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| A few home truths is all you’ll get from me
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| I’ve heard tell the one you’re with now drives you up the wall
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| You made your choice so live with that
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| We’re grown-ups, after all
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| And you can’t have your cake and eat it too
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| Made your bed, so you know what you can do?
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| You do, don’t you?
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| So don’t lean on me
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| I’ll disappoint you constantly
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| It’s best we if agree to disagree
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| A few homes truths is all you’ll get from me
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| Though you’ve gone you expect a welcome here
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| I’ve moved on, you can’t play the puppeteer, my dear
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| Once upon a time we met when I was still naive
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| We became a fairytale I wanted to believe
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| What I took for magic
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| Were some cheap tricks up your sleeve
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| But the ball always ends when it strikes twelve
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| And the cold light of day broke every spell, oh well
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| Your black magic fails and your routine is growing stale
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| So take your fairytales to someone new
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| Make these home truths my parting gift to you |