| Saturday felt like October
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| Red on the ground, blue in the sky
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| We are on fire for the wrong reasons
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| Fists in my hands, tears in my eyes
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| But I should be off somewhere feeding the angels
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| Who will take care of them while I’m away
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| It’s not that they can’t live without me
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| I know that, but they seem to appreciate it
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| When I stay…
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| I don’t cry very easy
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| Truth be told, I don’t, I don’t bruise at all
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| It’s not that my skin isn’t fragile
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| Sometimes I do, I do hit the wall
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| Tell him I’m off somewhere feeding the angels
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| The angels still love me even when I am bad
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| And my shame is like coal and
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| They’re making him diamonds
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| I don’t make them cry out
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| And I don’t make them feel sad…
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| Saturday felt like a threshold
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| I walked through now
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| And now I can’t turn around
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| I should be off somewhere feeding the angels
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| The angels still love me even when I am bad
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| And my shame is like coal and
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| They’re making him diamonds
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| I don’t make them cry out
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| I don’t make them feel sad… |