| I’m an ephemeral garbage collector
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| Collecting memories from her golden mind
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| Minding not to leave anything bad behind
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| Behind her back, behind her back
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| I can say what turns her on
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| I can say, I can say
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| Fridays are lonely, nights even colder
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| I need a fix, can you call me?
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| The world is a stranger, I’m feeling much better
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| I need a fix, can you call me?
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| I am her saviour, her messiah, I’m her Dylan
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| Dealing with fears I will soon uncover her soul
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| So listen out for words and clues in between
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| Between her legs, between her legs !
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| I am her Ringo and her John and her Paul
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| Pollinate easy, she will blossom in May
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| Maybe the time is right, time is right
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| For me to hang up the phone
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| I can say what turns her on
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| I can say, I can say
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| Fridays are lonely, nights even colder
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| I need a fix, can you call me?
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| The world is a stranger, I’m feeling much better
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| I need a fix, can you call me?
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| Remember running into the April rain
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| I told you once the weather forecast lies
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| You cut your wrists and then you close your eyes
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| Remember I had once to dull the pain
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| I can tell what turns her on
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| Fridays are lonely, nights even colder
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| I need a fix, can you call me?
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| The world is a stranger, I’m feeling much better
|
| I need a fix, can you call me?
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| I need a fix, can you call me?
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| I need a fix, can you call me?
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| I need a fix, can you call me? |