| There’s no use to complain
|
| Or start it off again
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| There’s no sign of weakness in me
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| Do I compel you like you compel me?
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| And nothing stays the same
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| And no one said it would
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| I would not think of such things if I could…
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| If I could help myself
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| If I could
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| So put your warm little hands where I can see them
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| Put those hands on my face
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| Tell me you love me
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| And no one else
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| Or close those little hands
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| Now they’re fists
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| Now they’re little fists
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| Punch a hole in me with those fists
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| If you ever wanted to punch a hole in me
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| And find out what’s in me
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| There’s really nothing in me
|
| And nothing stays the same
|
| And nothing ever happens to you that will happen to you again
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| Or is this the way it was?
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| Was it this same room, this same fight, this same scene?
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| With us dancing on the kitchen floor
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| And the wind climbing in through the open window
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| I used to hear distant cracks out in the city night
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| I could swear some one was being shot down
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| Now we hear that all the time…
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| So do you like where we’re headed?
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| Does it make sense in your eyes?
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| Do you miss me, baby, when I fall asleep?
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| Do you reach out for my arm?
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| Do you find it’s too far away?
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| Do you?
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| Now tell me I’m handsome
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| I will tell you we are really not old at all
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| There’s no use to complain
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| Still you and no one else
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| So put your warm little hands where I can see them
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| Put those hands on my face
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| Now if you get any out of this
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| Then that’s the thing that makes me sleep all day
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| And I’ll explain my love for you
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| On another day |