| Yeah, million-dollar baby girl in the lower-middle class
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| With a Maglite right beneath her pillow
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| And no, she’s never been a boxer by choice
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| She’s known to act oak, he’ll never catch her a willow, nuh-uh
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| She the calm type, you see the small scars
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| Creeping down her arm, peeking from her rolled sleeves, right?
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| She keeps him weak in the knees but she out stay out of sight
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| And when that school bell rings, it’s goodnight
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| Or might as well be, he never sees her around
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| But he looks, for weeks now he’s been maybe tomorrow
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| But he’s shook, he sees them bruises and he needs to please her
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| Plus he don’t wanna go home either, gives her a look
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| They pass, copies down a poem from a schoolbook
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| Gives it to her after hesitation, whoops his ass
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| She took it fast, lost like all sensation in her hands
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| Then braces herself gracefully, sturdy where she stands
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| On some humble mumbling, pass the words, fumbling
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| Nothing discouraging, just nerves, drumming up the courage
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| Something bout skylines or bike rides or riverbeds
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| Something, something that he read
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| It caught her right beneath the armor
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| Cauterized thought of any blunt forced trauma
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| Ain’t no way that he could harm her
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| When the curse leave a shell like a snake with fresh scales
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| Some people seem to call that home, but some souls roam
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| Keep riding till the cycle is broke
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| We ain’t got to go through nothing alone
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| When the curse leave a shell like a snake with fresh scales
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| Some people seem to call that home, but some souls roam
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| Keep riding till the cycle is broke
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| We ain’t got to go through nothing alone
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| She’s in the weather, the whole storm
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| Hugging on her prince, his hands to skin warm
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| Quick out the door, no note, no forlorn
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| Cause all they heard was «Papa don’t hit me no more»
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| But they couldn’t seem to keep the swelling down
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| How they regretting ever letting out this third child born
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| But things are getting better now, yeah cozy sweater now
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| With her thumbs through the holes in her sleeves worn down
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| And the boy similar, noise minimal, toy criminal
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| Joy simple when someone’s found it in you
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| Somehow it boost the individual, that bluish hue is mutual
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| They make love gently, so aware of each other’s bruises
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| And sorta scared they can lose this
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| Trust, bury the blues somewhere it won’t bear roots
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| But is this boy where the truth is?
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| She’s spooked, see fruit never seem to fall far from the useless
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| Branch that it’s attached to
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| And quacks say if he’s beat up, he’s bound to smack you
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| She’s down to step back now, if he ever got loud
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| She couldn’t be proud of whatever she might do
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| But it’s the first time she ever felt touch
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| That didn’t bring her to hush like something was being done to her
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| That unscrews her, she loosens with the booze
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| Her hinge can stay bent addressing her dude’s wounds
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| Regressing to bedrooms where fools ignored «don't»
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| He’s not one of them tools that screws, nuts and bolts
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| And she know that. |
| (She know that) and she know that
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| But she holds back and she hope that he see the way she flinch
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| Cause it’s knee-jerk to brace for attack
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| Even if he’s only rubbing her back
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| I mean, and even if it’s like the deck has been stacked
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| It’s not an act, he’s really loving her back (hold your heart up)
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| Never raise your hand, she says that with a grownup’s voice
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| I’m yours now, just like a child
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| Please don’t be scared now, it clicks
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| A piece finally fits, I love you
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| They said that with their lips
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| Never raise your hand, he says that with a grownup’s voice
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| I’m yours now, just like a child
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| Please don’t be scared now, it clicks
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| A piece finally fits, I love you
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| When the curse leave a shell like a snake with fresh scales
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| (Never raise your hand, she says that with a grownup’s voice)
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| Some people seem to call that home, but some souls roam
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| (I'm yours now, just like a child)
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| Keep riding till the cycle is broke
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| (Please don’t be scared now, it clicks)
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| We ain’t got to go through nothing alone
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| (A piece finally fits, I love you)
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| When the curse leave a shell like a snake with fresh scales
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| Some people seem to call that home, but some souls roam
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| Keep riding till the cycle is broke
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| We ain’t got to go through nothing alone |