| Like the thorn bush twines against the chain link fence
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| Like the spider spins it’s rings between the trees
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| And the lonely sycamore bends to the breeze
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| I am the puddles in the street waiting for your falling leaves
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| Twine your vines around me, drop your branches in my path
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| Linger, let me linger
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| Hearts drawn on a dusty window pane, a love note lying in the road
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| A car circling round a darkened street, a woman crying on the phone
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| We are like the crickets in the spring, calling out from under stones
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| Twine your vines around me, drop your branches in my path
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| Linger, let me linger |