| With your pulled down hair
|
| And your punched up lips and your city-mouse voice
|
| I should have know that we’d get into this
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| If I didn’t watch the signals
|
| And now you’re leaning in the door
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| With your fired up skin and you look up free and
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| Telling me I’m in for it if I can’t keep up
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| It’s only god or devil where you’re running
|
| And I’m always getting caught in the middle
|
| It’s so hard to be loved so little
|
| Time to whip out the phone why are people still calling
|
| Don’t they know that we are never gonna buy another batshit story
|
| About their kids in the garden
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| Better bring your fear of flying and your legs up on the brink
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| To the top of the stairs because I don’t wanna have to
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| Come down again to find you lighting up
|
| Its only god or the devil where your running
|
| And I’m always getting caught in the middle
|
| It’s so hard to be loved so little
|
| Its only god or the devil where your running
|
| And I’m always getting caught in the middle
|
| It’s so hard to be loved so little
|
| Its only god or the devil where your running
|
| And I’m always getting caught in the middle
|
| It’s so hard to be loved so little |