| I can never say you’re wrong
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| It’s as easy as off and on
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| You know it’s true
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| Maybe I’m half asleep
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| It wouldn’t even take a week
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| To convince you
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| But things are not like that
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| And there is no contract
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| Yet I can smell your hair still from the last time you were here
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| Perhaps what’s left of me
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| Is invisible twice a week
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| From noon til three
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| So I will sing until the mistake
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| Reaches fingers down my throat
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| Will the image last forever
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| Or shrink into a mote
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| And I will dream like a nightmare
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| I will laugh until you cry
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| And all these sticky situations
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| Did they help make up your mind?
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| Holding back to you
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| Holding back is something I can’t do
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| And each time when I looked
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| Each time when I looked it stayed the same
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| You’re already gone
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| But I can’t help but call
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| And time drips like molasses from your hair onto your glasses
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| It’s okay to me
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| But my thoughts are like the breeze
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| That flow up and down the trees in through your hair into my lungs
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| So I can sing until the mistake
|
| Reaches fingers down my throat
|
| Will the image lasts forever
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| Or let shrink into a mote
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| If I could dream like a nightmare
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| I will laugh until you cry
|
| And all these sticky situations
|
| Did they help make up your mind? |