| You’ve taken the title of this song
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| From a life that’s beyond
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| To something that you could hold on to
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| But is it wrong to sing along
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| When all of the words
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| They just get on your nerves
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| But the verse is ringing out like a curse
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| I’m tired of this old refrain
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| Is the chorus you sang
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| When you had no one to blame
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| But yourself for singing it all in vain
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| You’ve taken the title of this song
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| From a book that goes on and on
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| Until you can’t find the ending
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| Was it a funeral or a wedding?
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| Or a seance for the bride
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| Whose affection had died?
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| Though some say love is suicide
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| «My heart it don’t make any sense.»
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| Was all that she said
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| When her love was found dead
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| The story was all in her head
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| I’m tired of this old refrain
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| Is the chorus you sang
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| When you had no one to blame
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| But yourself for singing it all in vain
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| There was nothing but the song we were singing
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| There was nothing but the song we were singing, oh
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| Nothing but the song we were singing
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| There was nothing but the song we were singing
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| There was nothing but the song we were singing
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| There was nothing but the song we were singing
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| And there was nothing but the song we were singing |