| I’m wandering the lower east side
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| Where all the streets have stories
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| My feet play the role of a folk singer
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| Strummin' the streets like guitar strings
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| I had angels in my ears
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| Singing my own memories back to me
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| As if I forgot
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| These streets blend to one
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| Like the days of, the last few months.
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| I met you where I knew you’d be
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| Inside the wallgreens on 22nd street
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| You still had sleep in your hair so I brushed it out
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| Using the same hand that connects the dots
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| To your beauty marks, yeah
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| Like a constellation of stars
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| Using your body as the universe.
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| Now it’s all coming back
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| Hitting as hard as a heart attack
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| I realize the beauty that you are
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| But I’ll keep it wrapped inside my skin
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| It’s a sin that I can’t touch your neck
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| Or bring your lips to mine
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| Right now you’ve lost your valor
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| You’re losing face, you’re falling from
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| The pedestal that I’ve held oh so high for you. |
| Yeah.
|
| These streets blend to one
|
| Like the days of, the last few months.
|
| It’s a sin that I can’t touch your neck
|
| Or bring your lips to mine
|
| Right now you’ve lost your valor
|
| You’re losing face, you’re falling from
|
| The pedestal that I’ve held oh so high for you. |
| Yeah. |