| My God it’s late, honey where you been?
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| Before she could lie, it’s already forgiven
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| It’s written so plainly in her eyes
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| I’ve read this before — it always ends in her smile
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| She never loved me
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| but she never tried
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| And he never lover her
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| until she was mine
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| It ain’t my fault
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| my heart is so hard
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| it’s covered in bruises and battle scars;
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| these are hardly the marks of a prizefighter.
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| Yeah, well it ain’t my fault
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| is such a stupid phrase
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| usually said by the one who’s to blame
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| I step in the ring
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| and I let down my gloves
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| I’m throwing the fight
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| 'cause I think I’m in love.
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| Her pillow’s cold, even colder than before
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| she called out a name I couldn’t ignore.
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| Maybe with time, growing up will prove
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| to be the difference between experienced and used.
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| She doesn’t love me
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| but i wish she would try
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| just thinking 'bout leaving
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| is making me tired.
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| It ain’t my fault
|
| my heart is so hard
|
| it’s covered in bruises and battlescars;
|
| these are hardly the marks of a prizefighter.
|
| Yeah, well it ain’t my fault
|
| is such a stupid phrase
|
| usually said by the one who’s to blame
|
| I step in the ring
|
| and I let down my gloves
|
| I’m throwing the fight
|
| now isn’t that love?
|
| It ain’t my fault
|
| my heart is so hard
|
| it’s covered in bruises and battle scars;
|
| these are hardly the marks of a prizefighter.
|
| Yeah, well it ain’t my fault
|
| is such a stupid phrase
|
| soon as it’s said, well I know i’m to blame
|
| I step in the ring
|
| and I let down my gloves
|
| I’m throwing the fight
|
| Now isn’t that love? |