| I’ll never give in till you’re laying with me
|
| You may as well tell me when that day will be
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| I’ll never give in till you’re laying with me
|
| You may as well tell me when that day will be
|
| I don’t mean to sound so keen but you know me and I don’t feel
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| To spoil what we’ve got, enjoying watching dots
|
| Touring out lines, fully boring good time
|
| Through the scent of flowers and the humility of love
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| The evening is now set up for a thorough dreaming of
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| The gentle guests and games with a sense of sex and said
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| Every sentiment lending metaphors for bed
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| I’ll soon lie to you tonight about the true signs who flew in my mind
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| I’ll keep my arms with me from wrapping right round you
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| Till what we spark of a thought that could drown you
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| Does she do or does she don’t love me true or fucking won’t?
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| The only time I know of love is when silence is violent
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| Optimism fizzing in the clonk in dizzy imagery
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| Rocking hot humidity, but this is sizzling
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| Stumble over innuendo
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| Does she notice, does she fuck know?
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| Starting the evening riffling through feelings
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| I don’t mean to sound so keen but you know me and I don’t feel
|
| To spoil what we’ve got, enjoying watching dots
|
| Touring out lines, fully boring good time |