| Tis the season of the year to turn inside
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| And to see each day turn into night
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| And I’m thinking of a word I could use to describe
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| I’ve given up on every theory, law and design
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| I’ve got my keys and my money and I’ve got my phone
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| My mind is in a place nobody knows
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| I hate the things that I used to like
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| I must be stepping to the beat of such an off time
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| Or rather my step must be taken by the dawn’s early light
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| You know I meant what I said when I said you were mine
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| I guess I’ll head on home to a private life
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| I got the heat on high I won’t freeze this time
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| The officer is dead, the criminals have fled
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| Your miracle ends here
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| My legs may be raised but my head’s held high
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| They be teasing and teaming and lining up like flies
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| You know I wouldn’t dare dream of a corrupted spine
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| But the seed of my youth feels awful sometimes
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| The fantasy has ended, your alibi confessed
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| Your own world will make a better man dead
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| Tonight, oh you
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| Tonight, oh you
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| The memory of you still lingers the next night
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| Maybe I’ll beat myself up or off, so hard to decide
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| We both look and do not look at different times
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| I’ve got one hand in my pocket I won’t lose this time
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| Dream or be dreamt of was the guy’s stupid line
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| Tonight, oh you
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| Tonight, oh you |