| wouldn’t you think that i’d have it all figured out by now
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| and i’d know exactly what im doing
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| and wouldn’t you think that i’d have a key
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| to open every melody and sing like it all here at my feet
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| wouldn’t you think that i’d have a life hanging on my wall
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| so i could proove that i’m alive
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| but this are just things i’ve been giving
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| for a plastic way of living and im not sure if that really is my style
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| the second hand rolls on by, it never looks back to wait for mine
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| and if i fall any harder this time
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| and if i dig any deeper lord what will i find
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| well you can buy my life on radio and order me by mail
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| but not everything about me is for sale
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| no not everything about me is for sale
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| wouldn’t you think that i’d have the strength to carry anything
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| and i could buy a brand new set of hands
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| but sometimes like the others, i just ran away take cover
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| and i swear that no-one really understands
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| the second hand rolls on by, it never looks back to wait for mine
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| and if i fall any harder this time
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| and if i dig any deeper lord what will i find
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| well you can buy my life on radio and order me by mail
|
| but not everything about me is for sale
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| no not everything about me is for sale |