| I don’t know, no I don’t know what I should do
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| The allen keys in front of you
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| No, I’m not sure, no I’m not sure what I should say
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| To twist the knife or turn away?
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| It goes to show what makes you love will make you weep
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| The moral is to turn the other screw
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| You slipped beneath, slipstream
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| Oh my, my, you turn the other cheek and turns my stomach
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| What makes you love, won’t make you love, but makes you love is above right
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| But in the city and in self-pity, the doves are lower than the satellites
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| Stop me at the junction where I said I’d break the drum but I’ve been sold,
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| I’m sold
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| Tell me to resist, oh slap me harder I ball my fists but I’ve been sold,
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| I’m sold
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| Greyer than the commentary though the cameras rolling
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| If only I could turn the hands of time, but I’m feigning this straining
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| It’s not a safer skate it’s a stakeout, get your hands out of the cookie jar
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| I’m not sure where we are, but I want you to here in the centre
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| Stop me at the junction where I said I’d break the drum but I’ve been sold,
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| I’m sold
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| Tell me to resist, oh slap me harder I ball my fists but I’ve been sold,
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| I’m sold
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| Drag me out of the water, throw me a lamb to slaughter
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| Tell our sons and daughters I’ve been sold
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| What makes you love won’t make you love might break you
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| What makes you love won’t make you love won’t make you
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| What makes you love won’t make you love might break you
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| What makes you love won’t make you love won’t make you |