| There’s a tear-shaped case that we saw
|
| In an auction hall, suffering in silence
|
| Must be reassigned tonight
|
| While we’re partioning the moonlight
|
| And these red moth flames that adorn
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| The neural form, our old kitchen door
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| Lends the place a pointless air
|
| The new tenants can make repairs
|
| (Our love isn’t gone)
|
| (We just have to move on)
|
| We’re so faded
|
| Faded
|
| Here’s a magazine that we found
|
| With a page turned down, relevant to two
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| Occupants of caustic youth
|
| Who blurred their words to blunt the truth
|
| Now our eyes both fall on the records
|
| Baby, that’s the hardest part
|
| Half of which we bought together
|
| Now life is imitating art
|
| (And our little dream)
|
| (Is over, it seems)
|
| We’re so faded
|
| Faded
|
| (Behind the self-assurance lies a broken fairy tale)
|
| (And I must confess, this forwarding address)
|
| (Don't mean my heart’s found home yet)
|
| On a night in June when we keyed in tune
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| To quaint possibilities
|
| Built this palace out of dust
|
| Now it’s outlasted both of us
|
| On to five o’clock when I keyed the lock
|
| To my new familiar
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| Thoughts of you, I can’t resist
|
| It’s you I want and always miss
|
| (And looking ahead)
|
| (From this empty bed)
|
| I’m so faded
|
| Faded
|
| Faded
|
| Faded
|
| Faded
|
| Faded |