| Are you running away from the truth in the work we never do?
|
| As I twist myself out of sleep to face you
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| Will you please pick someone else?
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| I am awkward, I am not myself
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| It’s called worldly remiss
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| So that is why I choose to stay awake
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| When I’m dreaming and I hardly know your name
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| But the games we used to play were not games
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| Always, through all those years
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| That you can’t take back
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| When you didn’t choose to be here
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| Are you burning by the truth in the work you never do?
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| As I rearrange the way I look to suit you
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| And you ripped your evening dress
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| And forgot your evening sentences
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| Like you’re beautiful but not one bit useful
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| How you wonder why I don’t feel like dreaming
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| 'cause I hardly know your name
|
| And the games we used to play were not games
|
| Always, through all those years
|
| That you can’t take back
|
| When you didn’t choose to be here |