| Was the the train wreck?
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| Was she your last drag?
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| Was she the little piece of mind you thought you once had?
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| Was she the cure-all, or just the disease?
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| Was she the ransack, or the good denim jeans?
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| Maybe the money spent
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| Maybe the bad nights
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| Maybe the deep wound left behind a spider bite
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| Maybe the head hung inside a toilet seat
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| Maybe the vampire searching for someone to bleed
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| Hey, it’s whatever she wants to be
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| Hey, that’s whatever she’s gonna be
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| Out there roaming the night
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| Guess I’m the only boy she won’t bite
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| Was she the wedding dress drenched all in gasoline?
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| Was she the new-age Jezebel dog treat?
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| Was she the warhead, or the firecracker?
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| Was she death itself, or whatever comes after?
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| Maybe a suckerpunch
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| Maybe the common thread
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| Maybe the gray teeth pulling on a cigarette
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| Maybe the absolute
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| Maybe the in-between
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| Maybe a fortune teller with no-one there to read
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| And she waits, and she knows herself too well
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| She stares at her hands, but still can’t tell
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| When good luck comes around
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| She packs up all her cards and jumps town
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| Was she the trophy wife?
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| Was she the wanderer?
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| Was she the only spell in life that you’ve been under?
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| Was she the broken string, or the whole symphony?
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| Maybe the upright, perfectly out-of-key
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| Maybe a tar pick filled up with ancient bone
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| Maybe the footsteps you hear when you’re home alone
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| Maybe the prize bird losing its feathers
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| Maybe the glue that just won’t hold your shit together
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| Was she the blood moon that means disaster?
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| Maybe she’s nothing close to what you think you’re after
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| When all at once, man, you wake and come to
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| You know exactly what it is that she was to you |