| Doted on like seeds planted in rows
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| The untied shoelaces of your life
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| Nurtured all year then pressed in a book
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| Or displayed in bad taste at the table
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| Problems arise and you fan the fire
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| While there’s a wild pack of dogs loose in your house tonight
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| Cut from bad cloth or soiled like socks
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| Add it up and basically people never change
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| They just talk and make plans in the dark
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| Or make haste with ideas that can’t help
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| But creep good people out
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| As you talk to me too much you’re assuming
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| We don’t always want what’s right
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| Did I strike the right set of chords? |
| You’re annoyed
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| The goal is to ignite you then move on
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| You feel ill at ease, you got no squeeze
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| And the wise cracks won’t make you more stable
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| You’ve learned your lines to scale and to time
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| Why must I remind you now I’m only less able
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| Cut from bad cloth or soiled like socks
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| We’re ordinary people we can’t help but to change
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| As we walk and make plans in the dark
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| Or make haste with the boy who can’t help
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| But creep good people out
|
| As you talk to me too much you’re assuming
|
| We don’t always want what’s right
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| Two fallen saplings in an open field
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| Snow padding gently on an empty bench
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| An old woman’s jewelry lying unadorned
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| Cold nesting robins allied for the first time
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| I know when you hear these sappy lines
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| You’ll roll your eyes and say «nice try» |