| Polished to a high shine, straight outta the shrink wrap
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| Thin cracks riddled the glass on our picture perfect past now that I think back
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| Was it in craftsmanship? |
| Was there something lacking in
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| The packaging that let a draft get in and stale our little prim pact?
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| Perhaps it was a grim fact of manufacture ways of past
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| Nothing’s ever made to last. |
| What a clever way to make some cash!
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| Everyone’s afraid to ask how many more days you have
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| Let’s just say it’s much too late to act. |
| The expiration date elapsed
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| When you’re invested in someone you mess with
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| You never expect that you’ll take a bath
|
| Here’s a funny little saying for that…
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| What doesn’t kill you makes you laugh
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| Why would we make such a trade?
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| (Some things don’t change. Love seems so strange.)
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| Principle over passion, maybe I’m just old fashioned
|
| (Those same old games. Smoke from old flames.)
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| You can always build it cheaper right? |
| The truth is costly
|
| So we turned a date into a heated night and inserted A into your slot B
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| That was our first mistake, as if it wasn’t worth the wait
|
| To find the right time or the perfect place to set up our rehearsal space
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| Such an uncertain shape to incur the weight of our trust it was sure to break
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| A few vertebrae, a deserving fate. |
| It’s nothing any words would change
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| We were built to work this way, doomed from the start, two little hearts
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| Fused with a spark, cursed to make it last just until the glue comes apart
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| To think it seemed crude in the bars, long before computers would chart
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| Who you should partner up with. |
| That’s when falling in love was still viewed as
|
| an art
|
| Why would we make such a trade?
|
| (Some things don’t change. Love seems so strange.)
|
| Principle over passion, maybe I’m just old fashioned
|
| (Those same old games. Smoke from old flames.)
|
| How could we take such a change?
|
| (Some things don’t change. Love seems so strange.)
|
| The way that love’s being rationed, maybe I’m just old fashioned
|
| (Those same old games. Smoke from old flames.)
|
| This is big business. |
| It’s on every kid’s wishlist
|
| Every Mr. catches his Mrs., every Nancy gets her Sid Vicious
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| You let the very fabric of your merry marriage stretch to its limits
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| And get up on your best leg with a nest egg then end up in debt when it’s
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| finished
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| You can forget all the gimmicks… quicker, thinner, with a sexier image
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| In the end, whether commitment measures the distance all depends on what’s in it
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| We’re all synthetic provisional lovers wrapped and stuffed in styrofoam
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| My pop cemented his love for my mother and scratched and cut their lives in
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| stone
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| And I should have known, I wasn’t raised inside the new school
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| But let’s just admit it, they don’t make 'em like they used to
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| Remember when a truthful togetherness was crucial?
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| Now everyone is too cool and they don’t make 'em like they used to
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| My friend pool is a who’s who, menu of what fools do
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| To ruin a beautifully brewed truce, they don’t make 'em like they used to
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| It’s sad but it’s too true, love is far between and too few
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| When it comes to hearts it seems that they don’t make 'em like they used to |