| When I was younger, I wish that I would have known better.
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| Better love makes a fat romance, that lasts for more than a shoe shine.
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| I’m older, took all the words of my mother, saying,
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| It could be worse, could be born with that disease, instead of catching it first.
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| So let’s go back, to the first time, that I met you, in your Chevy,
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| with your hands stretched, and me crying, screaming, «Mercy. |
| Mercy.»
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| But I know that, I was put here, to fight Vikings, in the cold war,
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| with my arms out, in the front lines, singing, «Dare me. |
| Dare me.»
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| But these things take time love.
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| These things take backbone.
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| And they’ll tell you what you want to hear 'cause they think it’s better.
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| Better.
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| But you better know how to point out the liars.
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| You’ve got to weigh your wars make sure you’re not fighting for nothing.
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| Nothing.
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| Are you fighting for nothing?
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| It feels like this world has been growing slowly upside down.
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| Maybe I should move to China, and straighten this mess out.
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| Maybe I’ll be a poet.
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| Watch all the sky for falling words.
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| And write about my grandma’s curtains, or the lady who put the Chinese buffet
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| in her purse.
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| I’ve got my mouth.
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| It’s a weapon. |
| It’s a bombshell. |
| It’s a cannon. |
| I’ve got my words.
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| I won’t give them mercy. |
| Mercy. |
| I’ve got my words. |
| I hope they hurt you.
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| I hope they scar you. |
| I hope they heal you.
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| I hope they cut you open, make you see you’ve been warring for all the wrong
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| reasons.
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| Make you see that some things are worth bruising for.
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| Make you see that your name is your honor code.
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| Make you see that your hands you’re accounted for.
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| Pick and choose where your sweat and your blood will go.
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| Make you see your life’s not to be lived alone.
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| Run their spit through your hair, you’re worth nothing. |
| Nothing. |