| The number to the house is on the door
|
| But every time you open it as if you are not sure
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| If you even live here anymore
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| Anymore
|
| Well, I know what you’re about to say
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| I know that look there on your face
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| But I’m tired of reading your mind this way
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| So why don’t you say it?
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| You’re tearing me up inside
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| Tearing me up inside
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| It feels like something in me died
|
| Feels like something in me died
|
| All of the bright colours that lived inside of me
|
| Are now just tiny little pieces of what used to be
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| And it just feels like confetti
|
| Well, I remember on our wedding day
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| Thinking that all of those flowers would all just fade away
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| And it seemed like such a waste
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| Of beauty
|
| And now you’re tearing me up inside
|
| Tearing me up inside
|
| It feels like something in me died
|
| Feels like something in me died
|
| All of the bright colours that lived inside of me
|
| Are now just tiny little pieces of what used to be
|
| And it just feels like confetti
|
| Confetti
|
| Isn’t it a crying shame
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| That nothing ever stays the same?
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| I can’t fit into that wedding dress
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| Or be twenty-three again
|
| But you’re looking at me now
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| Like you don’t know who I am
|
| And it’s tearing me up inside
|
| All of the bright colours that lived inside of me
|
| Are now just tiny little pieces of who I used to be
|
| And it just feels like confetti
|
| Confetti
|
| Confetti |