| I am drifting on a sea
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| Of the billion words you said so sweetly
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| So I wrote you a letter and hid it inside the public library
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| In the pages of a book about a girl called Saint Marie
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| There’s so many roads to travel down
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| There’s so many places we might never be found
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| And you thought it’d be easy to get away
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| Maybe we could find somewhere we want to stay
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| But I guess that I understand
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| That you couldn’t love only one woman
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| I don’t know if these words could turn back time
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| And I don’t know if your fingers recall mine
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| Or if the store on the corner is still selling bottles of the cheap white wine
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| That we drank into the night with nothing on the mind
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| There’s so many roads to travel down
|
| There’s so many places we might never be found
|
| And you thought it’d be easy to get away
|
| Maybe we could find somewhere we want to stay
|
| But I guess that I understand
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| That you couldn’t love only one woman
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| Do you recall when you and I
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| Saw the Northern Lights dancing in the sky
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| There’s so many roads to travel down
|
| There’s so many places we might never be found |
| And you thought it’d be easy to get away
|
| Maybe we could find somewhere we want to stay
|
| But I guess that I understand
|
| That you couldn’t love only one woman
|
| Oh, you couldn’t love only one woman
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| Oh, you couldn’t love only one woman |