| Neurotic intellectual
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| Emotionally unavailable
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| You’re everything you think you should be
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| But the truth is unavoidable
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| And every choice intentional
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| Darling, I don’t mean to be mean
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| But you’re see-through as see-through can be
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| And when the party ends, you’re sweating in sheets
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| The city has left you alone
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| You cycle on fast-forward through
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| The strangers in your phone
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| And you re-record your voicemail
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| Find that perfect hollow tone:
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| «Hey, you’ve reached me, but what does that mean?
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| I don’t know.»
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| So run your risk and play your part
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| Hide away your hardened heart
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| And tuck yourself back into your shell
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| But is all that detached irony
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| That finely tuned delivery
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| Hurting more than it’s ever helped?
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| Are you fooling anyone but yourself?
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| Well, you’re the only one who can tell
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| Because the city has left you alone
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| In a Chelsea bar at closing time
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| Too wired to go home
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| When a street shark with a songbird rap
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| And a repertory brogue
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| Slurs, «C'mon love. |
| There ain’t no secret code
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| Are you thinking what I’m thinkin', yes or no?
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| Leave the mourning for the mornin', love. |
| Let’s go.»
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| You’re acting out the dead end of a theme
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| A cliche in a roundabout
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| Another person’s dream
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| It makes romantic copy but it’s not a life to lead
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| So roll your eyes and suck on your teeth
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| No, you don’t need to prove nothin' to me
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| But you’re the only one who knows what you need
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| The city has left you alone
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| Squinting at an address
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| With a car service on hold
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| You keep waiting on redemption
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| But isn’t waiting getting old?
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| You shut your eyes
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| The city clears its throat:
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| «On with the show.» |