| Dear so and so…
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| How small I am on the highways
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| And on the plains, in the cars and in the malls
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| Through the speakers of foreign places, unknown spaces
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| Surrounded by vast expanse or whatever
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| And a shifting entourage of men
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| I’m always lighter, smaller, less hairy, more delicate
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| A sex-less body, a sex, just a little less body
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| Nothing is really mine here
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| The car and equipment it’s all rented
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| I keep buying coffee, water and weird sweaters
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| Just to own something
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| And sometimes I feel like I’m still when I’m moving, you know?
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| Even on stage I rage without moving
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| I see it in a Youtube video
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| Look! |
| There my arm lifts
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| And then sort of instantly get self-concious
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| And starts falling back, down
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| Sort of sees itself and then retracts
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| As if saying for me
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| «She's so sorry, she’s so sorry»
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| With my entire body «She's so sorry»
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| I rest my forehead on the side window
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| Protecting my desire
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| The van does the drive for me
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| The van does the drive for me
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| We all do the same, each of us hidding, curled up
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| Like woollen girls with headphones guided by voices
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| I would never tell you this but sometimes
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| When I listen to music in my headphones
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| The voice I’m listening to is my own
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| And some of those times I cry
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| Later I wake up to leaves hurling themselves
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| At the windscreen, and on stage I feel my body straighten
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| It’s not that I’ve found anything new, or anything
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| But… not that is original, but… I’ve got this feeling
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| All I want to do now is to make everybody cry
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| I want you all to cry with me
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| I want us all to cry together!
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| To let loose, to let go of ourselves
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| In the empty clubs and on the dancefloors
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| On the parking lots, on the highways
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| And through the speakers…
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| But what am I saying?
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| «I want you all to cry with me?»
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| Isn’t that just manipulation?
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| Am I just standing here doing exactly what
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| The big mainstream movies are doing?
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| Exactly what the big arena concerts are doing?
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| In the films when someone’s kissing at the end?
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| Or there’s an explosion? |
| Just there
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| To manipulate you to feel something
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| And when they bring down the kissing in the rain
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| Or the violins, and you’re feeling something
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| But you don’t know why
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| Or let me rephrase that, you’re feeling something
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| But you don’t know who you are
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| Am I just that? |
| There must be something else!
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| Let us call this what it really is, it’s just «my desire»
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| Because if we don’t, we’re just stuck in this manipulation
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| Because I’m saying this to you
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| And because I’m standing on a stage higher up than you
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| Then, I’m somehow more important
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| And can make you feel something, and I know it
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| And manipulate it, but I just want to show you things!
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| Here, here, here
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| Because if I’m not doing that, then, if nobody’s doing that
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| If we are all just working with manipulation
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| Then all we have as audiences are those moments
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| When we don’t know who we are
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| And if we are like that, then tell me
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| Who does your feeling?
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| Hello, my name is Desire, but that’s not a girl’s name |