| Well, Hey…
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| You’re bringing back heartache, now a first name basis.
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| You shift the blame on me, but I have this crutch
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| and it treats me well
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| and it makes me blush.
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| You say that we went astray from the moment that we let our hands have their
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| way…
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| Or brains? |
| Are they one in the same?
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| In the moments we fake and the motions we slave.
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| I’m working on my pity and I’m sacrificing truth.
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| I’m acknowledging the moments that I’ve wasted on you.
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| I’m igniting all the ladies' hearts with movements set on me.
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| I’m delivering the holocaust with sheep and bloody knees.
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| I’m complaining while indifferent and still honestly confused.
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| I am humble, I am heartache, I am young and abused.
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| I am numb, but I feel everything, I’m giving it all to you…
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| As a gift, as a plea, as a right to abuse.
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| I lost myself, I found my way.
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| I’ve touched your thighs, I’ve felt your pain.
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| I’ve cried out loud, I’ve told the truth.
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| I’ve sacrificed my hold on you.
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| You’re innocent, you spread your legs, you played your part, you had your way.
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| You’ve dug your hole, you’ve paved the way.
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| Well, you’re hip and a flop and on top of the food chain. |