| Best of luck, don’t run amok
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| We all get tongue tied
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| Keep your chin up, don’t get accustomed
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| You’re allowed to backslide
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| One and only, God, it’s lonely here
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| On the other side of love
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| Teenage story in its glory
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| God, it’s never quite enough
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| My sun-dried baby, permanently limp
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| Quiet restraint takes such accomplishment
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| This airtight framing crutch analogy
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| Quiet restraint takes all the best in me
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| And you can tell them you’re the girl
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| Who sold her magic for the world
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| One day, babe, you’ll be mine
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| And I’ll be hers and we’ll be fine
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| And I will turn those screams to rhymes
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| And I’ll be cashing in each time
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| My sun-dried baby, permanently limp
|
| Quiet restraint takes such accomplishment
|
| This airtight framing crutch analogy
|
| Quiet restraint takes all the best in me
|
| Who’s to say that you won’t find love again
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| Who’s to say that you won’t find love
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| Who’s to say that you won’t find love if I
|
| Cut off my hands and make you clean it up
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| Who’s to say that you won’t find love again
|
| Who’s to say that you won’t find love
|
| Who’s to say that you won’t find love if I
|
| Cut off my hands and make you clean it up
|
| My sun-dried baby, permanently limp
|
| Quiet restraint takes such accomplishment
|
| This airtight framing crutch analogy
|
| Quiet restraint takes all the best in me
|
| Who’s to say that you won’t find love again
|
| Who’s to say that you won’t find love
|
| Who’s to say that you won’t find love if I
|
| Cut off my hands and make you clean it up
|
| Who’s to say that you won’t find love again
|
| Who’s to say that you won’t find love
|
| Who’s to say that you won’t find love if I
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| Cut off my hands and make you clean it up |