| All dressed up, no place to run
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| No car, no girl, no pills, no fun
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| Nothing to do in this empty room
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| I gotta get my head together soon
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| Alone again, no fans, no friends
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| You call me up at half past ten
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| And say «How are you holding up my friend?
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| Are you sitting around getting drunk again?»
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| And I hear the desperation of those lines
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| Wasted hours, all this wasted time
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| Yeah, I been just fine!
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| And you’re at my door in an hour more
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| I stumble down from the second floor
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| And we’re swaying and braying
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| We don’t know what we’re saying
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| And you grab my shirt, your way so curt
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| I swear to God that this doesn’t hurt
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| When you stare like that, you put on that act
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| You’ll say something and then you take it back
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| And I feel as though I’ve done something wrong
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| Oh, how I miss you and your gun
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| And I wish I had the guts to scream
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| You know, things aren’t always what they seem
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| When you walk away, I want you to stay
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| Don’t leave me here to pace and pray
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| All these nights I lose you
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| As I turn you think that by now I heard
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| That you’re only what you pretend to be
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| I guess that was just lost on me And I can’t stand the way you look at me In that dress
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| Oh, happy I will be alright I guess
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| If I wasn’t such a mess
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| I’m such a mess |