| She’s a special girl, you know
|
| The kind I’d hope to see
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| Hanging on a wall
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| Watching me cross the street
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| I wonder how long it will be
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| Before I’m sick of her
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| And I no longer care
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| Where she goes or has been
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| Because she’s the new thing
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| Because she’s the new thing
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| She is the new thing
|
| Because she’s the new thing
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| She is the new thing
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| Another new thing
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| Feel my stomach sink
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| As I cast myself in
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| She is the new thing
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| Always the new thing
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| Staring at her
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| Ulterior girl
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| Once she had me on my knees
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| Enamored with disease
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| Now, she fails to impress
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| A different sickness
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| A different kind of sickness
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| Lacking any interest
|
| And I, sunk in apathy
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| Totally absorbed in me
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| Sitting vacant on my own
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| My senses lying prone
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| She was the new thing
|
| Another new thing
|
| She was the new thing
|
| Another new thing
|
| Feel my stomach sink
|
| As I curse my slow limbs
|
| She was the new thing
|
| Another new thing
|
| Staring at her
|
| Ulterior girl
|
| I cast myself into whatever she brings
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| Another new
|
| With sickness
|
| It ends how it begins
|
| First mine then hers
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| And then the cycle blurs
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| As my actions reoccur
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| Through no fault of my own
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| I am a new thing |