| He’s got inside my head
|
| He’s sleeping in my head
|
| He’s got hold of my hand
|
| I am not anymore surprised at your phone calls at 4 in the morning
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| (Hello, hello)
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| You try to write me letters like you’ve transformed into Charles Dickens
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| overnight or something
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| (Oh, I’m sorry)
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| And I doubt that you’ve considered that maybe,
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| Just maybe those genes that you were forced in,
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| Although heavy, are no excuse for your lack of trust in anyone, even you.
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| My boyfriend used my palm, as an ashtray,
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| And that was on his good days
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| My scar looks like a bear, or a rabbit
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| They said, «It's just his bad habits.»
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| He’s got inside my head
|
| He’s sleeping in my head
|
| He’s got hold of my hand
|
| I’m not even scared to come cure your past, or try to reinvent it
|
| (Just leave it alone)
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| I can be your lover, and your mother,
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| And your father who never really had to take you fishing or teach compassion
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| You used my voice as your spokesman
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| You couldn’t walk on your own feet
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| Ain’t that horrid
|
| He’s got inside my head
|
| He’s sleeping in my head
|
| He’s got hold of my hand
|
| What’s the use, I’ve caught the blindness
|
| He’s got inside my head
|
| He’s sleeping in my head
|
| He’s got hold of my hand
|
| Are you going to tell me that you can’t bear this weight that was a present 12
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| years from this day?
|
| Well this town’s on the edge of the dry, dry ocean,
|
| And you’re thinking you’re immune to getting torn or more
|
| Yeah… Yeah…
|
| Come on He’s got inside my bed
|
| He’s sleeping in my head
|
| He’s got hold of my hand
|
| He’s got inside my bed
|
| He’s sleeping in my head
|
| He’s got hold of my hand
|
| What’s the use, I’ve caught the blindness |