| I walk to your house then back to mine
|
| Sky a blue-black, it is four forty-five
|
| In the morning I miss you, but I don’t know why
|
| I don’t think that I love you, I just hate goodbyes
|
| The winter we met you’d just dropped out of school
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| Heart like a Mustang ran out of fuel
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| Slept at your grandma’s cause your mother flew
|
| Off on Mexican mud, smelled of church and perfume
|
| I walk to your house then back to mine
|
| Sky a blue-black, it is four forty-five
|
| In the morning I miss you, but I don’t know why
|
| I don’t think that I love you, I just hate goodbyes
|
| The reverend he warned that we’re all born to lose
|
| If we start out defective what is there to prove
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| Miss your ten dollar mouth and your ignorant shoes
|
| If you read the good book I think you are confused
|
| I walk to your house then back to mine
|
| Sky a blue-black, it is four forty-five
|
| In the morning I miss you, but I don’t know why
|
| I don’t think that I love you, I just hate goodbyes
|
| Sun’s comin' up as it usually does
|
| Sins of the evening swept under the rug
|
| Minneapolis cold in a Portland tow truck
|
| I would laugh at myself but who am I to judge
|
| I walk to your house then back to mine
|
| Sky a blue-black, it is four forty-five
|
| In the morning I miss you, but I don’t know why
|
| I don’t think that I love you, I just hate goodbyes
|
| I don’t think that I love you, I just hate goodbyes |