| I live in a glass house
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| But I’m forever throwing stones
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| Most of it’s broken
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| But I call it my home
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| I was smoking like a chimney
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| I was standing on the porch
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| Well the bell is kept on ringing but there was no one at the door
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| Well, you might have seen the invite cuz I was cooking all the time
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| But placemats were empty when I sat down to dine
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| You could have changed it all if you had called
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| The house was cold
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| And remained unsold
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| The neighbour told me you darkened my door,
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| Well I hope you saw I don’t live there anymore
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| Saw so much pain though these windows
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| Left your picture on the fridge
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| Well they boarded them up dead shut
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| And I’m glad that they did
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| I miss the leaking from the ceiling
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| And the squeaking of the gate
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| Took some of your lilies with me
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| But they won’t grow the same
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| You could have changed it all if you had called
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| The house was cold
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| And remained unsold
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| The neighbour told me you darkened my door,
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| Well I hope you saw I don’t live there anymore
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| Well I took some paint from a desperate place
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| And an emptied case
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| And I covered up the walls
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| But there’s still scuff marks
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| And some plastered scars
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| I drive the same old car
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| But you couldn’t tell at all
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| The neighbour told me you darkened my door,
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| Well I hope you saw I don’t need you anymore |