| This can’t be right
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| There’s something inside that binds me
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| Spending my nights thinking of ways…
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| You’ll find me closer to the sun…
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| And I will swallow my pride, forget all the lies from lovers
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| I know it’s been said, the skirts on the bed, hearts flutter…
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| Thoughts of suicide or flowers?
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| It’s known. |
| Or at least it was at sometime…
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| That these lies roll your lips at a drop of a dime…
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| And the end…
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| And the end is not worthy
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| Of fairytale rhymes, peace of mind, don’t be worried
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| It’s sad, that I had such foolish remorse
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| For suspicion of lacking, for locking of doors
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| Like the coat hanger swinging by means of your clothes
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| Being torn…
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| Being torn
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| Like I’ve said, it’s kind of sad, we can’t hold on…
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| And pain is said to sweep away whats left of breathing
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| Like I’ve said, it’s kind of sad, you won’t hold on…
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| A lover’s bed, now dormant and deprived of meaning
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| You can sneak, while the city sleeps
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| Tie an anchor to my head
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| You can moan, if it builds a thrown for a heart thats lined in lead
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| Give it to me, give me more than… give me more than you know…
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| Give it to me, let me see you turn it to gold
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| Turn it to gold |