| How my fingers found you so quickly in the dark
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| Hardly strictly business, speaking from the heart
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| On the bathroom sink, I lifted up your skirt
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| How was I to know just how badly I’d get hurt?
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| Everyone was talking backwards, drowning on their feet
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| I noticed how the rose was clenched too tightly in your teeth
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| We were spoiling for a fight, the special way we’d flirt
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| I dragged you to the garden, we did it in the dirt
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| You pretend to be you, I’ll pretend to be me
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| And I’ll see you at the hollow jubilee
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| In a post-orgasmic haze, sometimes some truth escapes
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| When the pressure is relieved, one can relive the better days
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| When we were as one, you thought I was too young
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| Now sometimes you feel something else when the chill of evening comes
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| You pretend to be you, I’ll pretend to be me
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| Hiding at the hollow jubilee
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| Our loves lies in repose and everybody knows
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| You weave the fabric of your life into your onstage clothes
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| I always pictured you and me growing old disgracefully
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| Now I see the club’s sold out and there’s no room for me
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| There’s a blindfold for you and a mirror for me
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| Hanging at the hollow jubilee
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| So, you pretend to be you, I’ll pretend to be me
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| When I see you at the hollow jubilee |