| My love, she speaks like silence
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| Without ideals or violence
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| She doesn’t have to say she’s faithful
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| Yet she’s true like ice, like fire
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| People carry roses
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| And make promises by the hours
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| My love, she laughs like the flowers
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| Valentines can’t buy her
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| The bridge at midnight trembles
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| The country doctor rambles
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| Banker’s nieces seek perfection
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| Expecting all the gifts that wise men bring
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| The wind howls like a hammer
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| And the night blows rainy
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| My love, she’s like some raven
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| At my window with a broken wing
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| In the dime stores and bus stations
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| People talk of situations
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| Read books, repeat quotations
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| Draw conclusions on the wall
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| Some speak of the future
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| My love, she speaks softly
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| She knows there’s no success like failure
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| And that failure’s no success at all |