| You asked if you could see me, before I went to Spain
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| You didn’t give a reason, didn’t know what you would say
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| But I was hoping that my breath on your face,
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| Would blow every last thing into place
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| The bed-spread decked in suns and moons and symbols of the star-signs,
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| How you read how mine applied to how I would be sex-wise
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| And in my arms you disappeared and I seemed twice the size,
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| Slept and woke with lips together, sleeping felt like lies
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| Girl, I helped you with your demons, but your ghosts are now haunting me too
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| That French bitch, an ex-boyfriend threatening to tie his neck to the roof
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| But if we tiptoe through the true bits
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| We might make it to the other side
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| What doesn’t kill you, leaves you wounded
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| But I will nurse you better alright
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| I’ve been waking on your side of the bed
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| As the sun’s been rising in the west
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| If your skin feels softer, I’ve no argument to make,
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| The weight of such apologies caused stronger men to ache
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| If his kisses draw the bad out, I can’t have a complaint
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| As they hit your tongue like sedatives while I lay wide awake
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| You can feel a tremor in a single word, it rattles down your spinal chord
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| And you can catch a raincloud in an hourglass, but it will turn into a storm
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| Knee deep in flowers we’ll stray,
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| You keep the showers away |