| These are letters I don’t write
|
| Every evening I give up the fight
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| And I see beauty in every day
|
| But the beauty of words won’t come my way
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| And I don’t care what you think about love
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| I’ve heard stories, honest and true
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| Flowing rivers that lead into you
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| And things get easy when you let them out
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| But you pack in your pain 'til you’re ready to shout
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| And I don’t care what you think
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| I’ll just sit here, here on the brink of love
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| And it’s a long way down
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| You should have held my hand
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| I liked you better when you lied
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| You were more to the point
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| And you looked me in the eye with love
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| These are letters I don’t write
|
| Every evening I give up the fight
|
| And I see beauty in every day
|
| But the beauty of words won’t come my way
|
| And I don’t care what you think
|
| I’ll just sit here, here on the brink of love
|
| I don’t care what you think
|
| I’ll just sit here, here on the brink of love |