| I want old love, the kind that takes years
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| To turn to gold, love, burnished and seared
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| On the high wire, by rain, wind and sun
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| With the hard times forgiven and done
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| I want old love, the kind that seeps in
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| It isn’t cold, love, it’s never brittle or thin
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| It’s the long kiss, it’s the curl of a sigh
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| Down a hallway, in the middle of the night
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| I want old love, the kind that can see
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| Through the holes, love, that live underneath
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| All our false cheer, bravado and pride
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| Through the old fears we carry inside
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| I want old love, the kind that can say
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| What it knows, love, and what it learned on the way
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| In that one voice, familiar and strange
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| Only old love remembers your name
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| I want old love, the kind that holds on
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| When it’s told, love, that all hope is gone
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| Against all odds, wagers and prayers
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| To the wall love, to the furthest somewhere
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| I want old love, the kind that takes years
|
| To turn to gold, love, burnished and seared
|
| On the high wire, by rain, wind and sun
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| With the hard times forgiven and done |