| You rip my guts with every sharp word,
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| When you use that monster
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| Hiding underneath your tongue,
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| My words don’t, they don’t work on you,
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| No, they don’t work like they used to.
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| 'Cause it’s been seven weeks, seven weeks,
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| Oh, oh, oh, seven weeks, since I called you,
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| When I try now; |
| I just can’t get through.
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| So far, the drinks have been so strong,
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| No writing on the post cards,
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| No memories to hang on.
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| Sleeping in my six o’clock shadow,
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| People judging people so shallow,
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| I call you up to see what you’re doing,
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| To see if you won’t…
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| Send me your love, right through the ceiling,
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| I need your love, darlin’this evening!
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| Oh, moma, moma, moma, what can I do?
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| There’s a jukebox baby,
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| And you can play our favorite song all night,
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| Until your money’s gone,
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| 'Cause if I’m right about you darlin',
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| Then you’re probably laying in bed,
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| And your temperature is boiling,
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| 'Cause your making things up in your head.
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| It’s been seven weeks, seven weeks,
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| Oh, oh, oh seven weeks, since I called you,
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| When I try now; |
| just can’t get through,
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| So far, the days have been so long,
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| But, now I got my fade on,
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| Screaming at you at the top of my lungs!
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| Fog is lifting from the old man,
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| I had so much fun in the trash can,
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| I wave my flag, but you still send your troops in,
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| To the war in your soul.
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| Send me your love, right through the ceiling
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| I need your love, darlin’this evening!
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| Oh, moma, moma, moma, what can I do?
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| Backstage pass through these time zones,
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| Want you everyday, but I’m not home,
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| Can’t really touch you through the cell phone,
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| There’s so many things that you just don’t know.
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| It’s been seven weeks, seven weeks,
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| Oh, oh, oh, seven weeks, since I called you,
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| When I try now; |
| just can’t get through.
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| So far, the drinks have been so strong,
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| Now there’s writing on the post cards,
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| Baby, seven weeks is just too long! |