| Well I wonder how I’m playing
|
| Poorly feely or out of control
|
| I called there once, now I’m flailing
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| I remember you’re big, but you I can’t recall
|
| And stick around for the winter
|
| I might run into you
|
| Might change the world
|
| I wish I was a beginner
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| Wish the colours were separate
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| Not one muddy swirl
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| 'Cause you found out what begged it
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| That I watch how it looks
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| To and copy it
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| And if you like it, then I like it
|
| And you think you can see
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| But I’m just made of mist
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| Nothing sticks
|
| So it’s no big surprise when I quit
|
| This is just like one of those billboards
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| Of a random scene with the faces cut out
|
| Stick your head through hay
|
| You’re
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| And I’ll stick mine through two
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| Hey, I’m olive oil now
|
| And you’re a famous portrait
|
| And my souls never achieve what they’re for
|
| And I’ll wait in for the big time
|
| Least I though that I did
|
| Now I’m really not sure
|
| 'Cause you’re young
|
| You’re just a big kid
|
| And me too, I stopped growing
|
| There’s no pride in it
|
| And I’m bouncing like an echo
|
| And I’m a rusty nail
|
| I’m a bad magic trick
|
| Nothing sticks
|
| So I’m trying to memorise it
|
| Nothing sticks
|
| You’re so lovely, but I can’t feel it
|
| Nothing sticks
|
| So it’s no big surprise when I quit
|
| Nothing sticks
|
| So I’m clean, though I’m rolling in shit |