| I drove through Berlin tonight.
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| Straight shot down the highway and through my chest.
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| And I thought about missing you and the meaning of the word futile.
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| I walked around this rainy college campus
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| On a Sunday for three hours.
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| I thought about home and how you wouldn’t be there.
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| And I thought of me and how you just don’t care.
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| But I could swear I saw your reflection
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| In the puddle of rain on the concrete.
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| You were standing next to me and your lips were on my cheek.
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| And I can swear I feel the dissection
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| Of the whole me when you leave.
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| And I’ve grown to hate this connection that I weave.
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| I drowned you in alcohol last night.
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| But you poked air holes through my chest.
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| You fought hard to maintain your place in my heart and on my mind.
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| Connections wearing thin
|
| But I could swear I saw your reflection
|
| In the puddle of rain on the concrete.
|
| You were standing next to me and your lips were on my cheek.
|
| And I can swear I feel the dissection
|
| Of the whole me when you leave.
|
| And I’ve grown to hate this connection that I weave.
|
| Connections wearing thin
|
| But I could swear I saw your reflection
|
| In the puddle of rain on the concrete.
|
| You were standing next to me and your lips were on my cheek.
|
| And I can swear I feel the dissection
|
| Of the whole me when you leave.
|
| And I’ve grown to hate this connection…
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| I don’t remember anything after that. |