| You’ve got the best of both worlds
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| You’re the kind of girl who can take down a man,
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| And lift him back up again
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| You are strong but you’re needy,
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| Humble but you’re greedy
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| And based on your body language,
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| And shoddy cursive I’ve been reading
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| Your style is quite selective,
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| though your mind is rather reckless
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| Well I guess it just suggests
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| that this is just what happiness is
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| Hey, what a beautiful mess this is
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| It’s like picking up trash in dresses
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| Well it kind of hurts when the kind of words you write
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| Kind of turn themselves into knives
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| And don’t mind my nerve you could call it fiction
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| But I like being submerged in your contradictions dear
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| 'Cause here we are, here we are
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| Although you were biased I love your advice
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| Your comebacks they’re quick
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| And probably have to do with your insecurities
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| There’s no shame in being crazy,
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| Depending on how you take these
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| Words I’m paraphrasing this relationship we’re staging
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| And what a beautiful mess, yes it is
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| It’s like picking up trash in dresses
|
| Well it kind of hurts when the kind of words you say
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| Kind of turn themselves into blades
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| And the kind and courteous is a life I’ve heard
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| But it’s nice to say that we played in the dirt
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| Cause here, here we are, Here we are
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| Here we are
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| We’re still here
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| What a beautiful mess, this is
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| It’s like taking a guess when the only answer is «Yes»
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| Through, timeless words and priceless pictures We’ll fly like birds not of this
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| earth
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| And tides they turn and hearts disfigure
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| But that’s no concern when we’re wounded together
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| And we, tore our dresses and stained our shirts
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| But its nice today. |
| Oh the way it was so worth it. |