| I had a hole in the middle,
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| Where the lightning went through,
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| I told my friends not to worry,
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| My wife would know how to fix it.
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| Hole in the middle,
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| I’m seeing less of you.
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| Now I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t know what I’ll do.
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| It’s easy to lose your grip.
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| It’s easy.
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| I never tell my decisions to the ones I adore,
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| I just show up like a Bible-breather outside the door.
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| But when I look in the window,
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| I see girls on TV,
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| Living and dying in LA, and it means nothing to me.
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| It’s easy to lose your grip.
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| It’s easy.
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| It’s easy to lose your grip.
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| It’s easy.
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| So I walk through the streets I love,
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| And I’m led to the house I built,
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| And I walk through the streets I love,
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| And I lay in your bed again.
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| Wake up your saints, Jenny, I need them,
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| Jenny, I need them, today.
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| Wake up your saints, Jenny, I need them,
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| Jenny, I need them, today.
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| I didn’t have to explain to her that I wasn’t dead,
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| She sat me down and lit some colored candles over my head.
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| She said, «You're right it’s a living, but you’re wrong for the life,
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| You know you never should’ve listened to my father’s advice.»
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| It’s easy to lose your grip.
|
| It’s easy.
|
| It’s easy to lose your grip.
|
| It’s easy.
|
| So I walk through the streets I love,
|
| And I’m led to the house I built,
|
| And I walk through the streets I love,
|
| And I lay in your bed again.
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| Wake up your saints, Jenny, I need them,
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| Jenny, I need them, today.
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| Wake up your saints, Jenny, I need them,
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| Jenny, I need them, today. |