| That first winter in the forest
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| We blew big smoke at the snow
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| Explored the tracks along the reservoir
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| And made friends we weren’t obliged to know
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| Slept naked by the fire and made angels with our bodies
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| Used your spirit as a blanket that was big enough to cover me
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| Want to live in a beautiful world
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| And I don’t know how I’ll do it without you
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| And it was a warm night in September
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| The air was filled with distant laughter
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| We had walked down to the water
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| To dare each other to dive in
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| The waves were ruining my omen
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| Pair of pants that are not jeans
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| But at least now there’s a story
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| And a memory of how you looked at me
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| Want to live in a beautiful world
|
| And I don’t know how I’ll do it without you
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| Want to live in a beautiful world
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| And I don’t know how I’ll do it without
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| I don’t know how I’ll do it without you
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| When there’s a deep and violent sadness
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| It grows in me as I get old
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| A kind of concentrated madness
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| Smashing Telecasters in my soul
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| Smashing Telecasters in my soul
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| Smashing Telecasters in my soul
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| And I understand the irony
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| That having someone next to me
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| Does not offer security
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| And in the end, I always leave |