| A silhouette passing by in front of your eyes
|
| Someone walking through the crowd
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| That’s just her body, it’s not her
|
| Just a reflection of a time that’s lost
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| Memories painted as the contours of
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| Someone you once would have died for
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| A sound makes it through the constant noise
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| A voice so familiar
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| But the words they’re not the same
|
| As the ones she used to say
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| The sentences they’re not how
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| They used to be
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| Though still as beautiful
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| They’re not meant for you
|
| So how did it feel tonight
|
| As the streets became yours?
|
| The streets of the city
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| In which our stories were written
|
| So how did it feel like
|
| Your hand in someone else’s hand
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| Your features of your face
|
| On someone else’s mind
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| The breath of another as
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| As the last sound you’ll hear before sleep
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| As the first you hear at dawn
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| How will that feel like?
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| Will it make you feel alive?
|
| There’s so much pain in here
|
| There’s too many
|
| Feelings
|
| Left from back when
|
| The days still left us with
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| These little things
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| That kept us trying
|
| There’s so much pain in here
|
| There’s too many
|
| Feelings
|
| Left from back when
|
| The days still left us with
|
| These little things
|
| That kept us trying |