| To be a mother you have gonna waiting
|
| Ducking for some cover hiding under rocks
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| Outlining yourself in decades of chalk
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| Decorating shame by silencing your walk, oh
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| A suffered heart from years of shock, oh
|
| A suffered heart from years of shock
|
| The next stage you can’t imagine
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| A man too young to hold his head up high
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| Weightlessness attached to everything he tries
|
| A battle yet won to decipher the lies, oh
|
| A suffered heart from years of shock, oh
|
| A suffered heart from years of shock, ooh
|
| A suffered heart from years
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| The fear comes from not knowing
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| When and how and where and to
|
| Our lives will be moving, moving
|
| But you won’t push too hard
|
| No, you won’t push too hard
|
| No, you won’t push too hard
|
| Bored from being the only one to blame
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| Love from other men, you will find without shame
|
| When your breasts are sucked of all their fame
|
| A lingering hope for a body not so lame, oh
|
| A suffered heart from years without touch, oh
|
| (Years, years, years, years gone by without touch)
|
| A suffered heart from years without touch, ooh
|
| (Years, years, years, years gone by without touch)
|
| A suffered heart from years
|
| (Years, years, years)
|
| The fear comes from not knowing
|
| When and how and where and to
|
| Our lives will be moving, moving
|
| But you won’t push too hard
|
| No, you won’t push too hard
|
| No, you won’t push too hard
|
| No, you won’t push too hard
|
| No, you won’t push too hard
|
| No, you won’t push too hard |