| I’m in the middle of a drink
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| Without it I can’t stay
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| When I reach the top of the trees
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| I’ll unwrap my fingers, free my foot and run away
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| I’m in the middle of a poem
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| This one’s not for you
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| And as I was counting size
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| May have missed out on my moon
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| I don’t have the sadness in the place it should’ve been
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| And I don’t have a darkness over all I break and all I’m in
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| I have glass in my throat when I sing
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| About what an almost love it could’ve been
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| I can’t ever sleep
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| All my dreams are in a width of languages the tongue can speak
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| And before the birds are hurt
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| Shrouded in the devil’s cloud to watch the morning burn
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| I don’t have the sadness in the place it should’ve been
|
| And I don’t have a darkness over all I break and all I’m in
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| I have glass in my throat when I sing
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| About what an almost love it could’ve been
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| I gather my yesterdays
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| They’re all I could hold but in the end I saved
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| I’ll find a new way to be alone, ooh-oh
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| Another heart away I’ve grown
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| I’m in the middle of a dream
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| This one’s not with you
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| If I fall will you swallow me whole?
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| Turning into you and turn myself into a fool
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| Turning into you and turn myself into a fool
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| Ooh-oh
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| Turning into you and turn myself into a fool
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| Turning into you and turn myself into a fool
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| Ooh-oh
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| So you think I’m a fool |