| Four years and twenty-two shades of blonde
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| Is all that separated us
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| Why couldn’t we have carried on?
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| We could have got married
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| You could have carried some, of my sons
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| You let me change the radio, station in your car
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| Do you remember that time I raised my voice?
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| Because you said you’d never ever heard of The La’s
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| You continued to get intimidated
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| But then your fingertips wrapped round those knuckles of mine
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| The fear walked home, and your smile returned
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| And all of a sudden; |
| everything was fine
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| But those days have passed
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| And these types of relationship never last
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| So please don’t pretend that we’ll stay friends
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| 'Cause you know as well as I do that that, but that just, it never happens
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| (Well no, no that just never happens)
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| How come, I always see you out
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| With those boys that we used to argue about?
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| You walk over all flustered and stuff
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| Telling everyone inside that you’ve had enough
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| You spend eighty-five percent of your night
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| Trying to make me understand, why you were standing so close while you’re
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| kissing him
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| Why you left that place holding his hand
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| Oh darling, can’t you see that it’s got fuck all to do with me?
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| So please don’t pretend that we’ll stay friends
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| 'Cause you know as well as I do that, but that just, it never happens |