| I found my fickle friend
|
| Out in the alley way
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| He said, «You don’t look so good»
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| I said, «Hey doc, that’s great»
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| You started practicing?
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| I never got the note
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| So let’s shake and trade
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| And be on our way
|
| So here we are again
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| Inside your neon shrine
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| Sharing a chopping block
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| Under embarrassed light
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| I try to hide myself
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| I tuck myself away
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| And we both grab hold
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| Say, «No you don’t»
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| The morning’s hot and harsh
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| My notebook fills itself
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| The words come thick with sweat
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| But it feels like someone else
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| Is writing all of this
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| Someone I just can’t believe
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| So I mop my brow
|
| Set my pen back down
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| It’s still me, still me
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| I’m grabbing at a feeling now
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| That I could never name
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| Some signpost to remind me
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| How I wanted things this way
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| She says you’re pretty
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| But you hate yourself
|
| I could hear it clear as day
|
| I say, I sing like this
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| It sounds worse than it is
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| I’m okay, okay
|
| I’m okay, okay
|
| Just stay, just stay
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| Just stay, just stay
|
| Just stay, just stay
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| Just stay, just stay
|
| Just stay, just stay
|
| Just stay, just stay
|
| Just stay, just stay
|
| Just stay, just stay |