| The carbonation in my drink
|
| The bubbles rise while my heart sinks
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| And all I tend to do is think of you
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| Was it easier to pack your bags
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| And book that flight to Paris
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| As the plane began to move that afternoon
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| And when all the trains have pulled away
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| From local stations in decay
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| It’s I who waits, it’s you who’s late again
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| And did you think of me when you made love
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| To him, was it the same as us
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| Or was it different, it must have been
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| And all the pretty dames
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| They’ll hug and kiss you all the same
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| And when they go, they’re gone
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| They’re not running late
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| Oh all, all the pretty dames
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| And the kids you hold in your arms
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| With promises to protect them from harm
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| But they grow, and they go
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| And you’re all alone
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| All the kids, all the kids that you hold
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| And it’s a shame that it ends this way
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| With nothing left to say
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| So just sit on your hands, while I walk away
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| It’s a shame, it’s a shame, it’s a shame
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| When my hands begin to shake
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| When bitterness is all I taste
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| And my car won’t stop
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| Cause I cut the brakes
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| I hold on to a hope in my fate
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| Oh oh ah ah hey hey
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| May you return to love one day
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| Well I hope and I pray
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| You get what you gave
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| Oh oh ah ah hey hey |