| Tell me what you want me to think
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| You can lead me to water and you can make me drink
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| I trust you if you say it’s good
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| You wouldn’t hurt me and I don’t think you could
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| Tell me what I don’t need to keep
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| I’ve over-packed and the sidewalk is steep
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| To your cathedral at the top of my hill
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| Makes me tired and dear it always will
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| Tell my why I haven’t been here
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| I haven’t changed and nothing’s been revealed
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| It wants in the blood of the way and the light
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| It takes my sin Sunday morning and makes me drunk at night
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| Tell me the more than truth
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| Go and have the prize you failed to redeem
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| Don’t tell me that you’ve always known
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| That I wake up first and you’d wake up alone
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| The sweet young man goes walking down the street
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| Wiping the blood off his hands
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| And it doesn’t look good but he does what he can to erase the signs
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| But the nightmare he faced at the scene of the crime
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| She snuck up behind him as he knelt by her victim
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| Whispered I knew you’d come but
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| There’s nothing to be done and if I was you, I’d run
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| Cause no woman cares about what you’ve found
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| When they see any signs of guilt
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| You kissed his face, you held his hand
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| You always were a sweet young man
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| He’s still a mess so he has a car to take him to the fountain at Balboa Park
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| Where he used to play when he was young
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| He’s gonna wash off in front of everyone |