| Chloe, I know this is impossible
|
| I’ve been checking my cards
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| I’ve been shouting out at calendars and grace
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| I know this is impossible
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| I’ve been wasting yr time;
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| I’ve been marking hours and marking hours as mine
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| So London might as well be Glasgow
|
| Might as well be Tokyo
|
| Or any place we’re almost leaving
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| Chloe, I know this is impossible
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| I spent the week borrowing phones
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| Squeezing in your number like:
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| 0…7…Fuck it, I’ll call tomorrow
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| All we have is miles and wires
|
| And all I am is calls tomorrow
|
| So London might as well be Glasgow
|
| Might as well be Tokyo
|
| Or any place we’re almost leaving
|
| So pick me a song
|
| (Pick me a song)
|
| Cover up my awkward pauses, silence broken or strained
|
| And if I’m wrong play it out as parting shots of echoed grace
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| All pedestal charmed and hearts aloft like fireworks lit, that never went off
|
| And we’ll be losing sleep,
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| Message read
|
| A shiver in a single bed
|
| Doo doo doo doo doo
|
| So London might as well be Glasgow
|
| Might as well be Tokyo
|
| Or any place we’re almost leaving
|
| So pick me a song
|
| (Pick me a song)
|
| Cover up my awkward pauses, silence broken or strained
|
| And if I’m wrong play it out as parting shots of echoed grace
|
| All pedestal charmed and hearts aloft like fireworks lit, that never went off
|
| And we’ll be losing track
|
| Writing back
|
| A shiver in a sleeping bag |