| I knew a man who was afraid to love
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| To lay his heart on the bathroom rug
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| He drank his coffee in the same old mug
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| And sat in silence 'til the world fell numb
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| Until the day when a girl came by
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| She had eyes like the rising tide
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| He felt a sharpness deep inside
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| The kind of ache that can’t be satisfied
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| We hate the rain when it fills up our shoes
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| But how we love when it washes our cars
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| We love to love when it fills up the room
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| But when it leaves oh we’re cursing the stars
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| So he turned to the radio
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| And he went to a picture show
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| Tried to find someone else who knows
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| All the hurt that a heart can hold
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| She smelled like cinnamon and winter clove
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| And sparked like firewood inside a stove
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| Wanted to ask her just to sit and stay
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| Instead he watched as she walked away
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| We hate the rain when it fills up our shoes
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| But how we love when it washes our cars
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| We love to love when it fills up the room
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| But when it leaves oh we’re cursing the stars
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| We hate the rain when it fills up our shoes
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| But how we love when it washes our cars
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| We love to love when it fills up the room
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| But when it leaves oh we’re cursing the stars |