| It’s all coming back to me now
|
| But try as I have to keep
|
| The taste of you off of my tongue
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| Your face from my fitful sleep
|
| And I wait and hope against hope like before
|
| And I wait and hope that I won’t anymore
|
| This won’t stop till I do
|
| Until I learn to kill the thought
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| Of everything I could have said
|
| Of everything I wished I had not
|
| And I wait, hope against hope like before
|
| And I wait, hope that I won’t anymore
|
| Show rises up from the street
|
| And a crowd rises up to its feet
|
| I followed blind after you
|
| I might know better, if I’d ever wanted to
|
| The paint in here is still not dry
|
| And I can smell it from the door
|
| It covers every mark you made
|
| From counting days or keeping score
|
| And I wait, hope against hope like before
|
| And I wait and hope that I won’t anymore
|
| And I wait, hope against hope like before
|
| And I wait, hope that I won’t anymore |