| I know you’re tired of waking up on the floor
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| Pushed to the edge with nothing heavy to hold
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| Using your clothes as a blanket and a bed
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| Holding your hands just to lay your head.
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| I know you don’t remember ever falling down,
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| Who picked you up, who gathered around
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| But you don’t have to be his girl
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| And you don’t have to be my girl
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| You can always be your own girl.
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| With the sound of your feet you follow yourself to sleep
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| Restless and ageless and looking for somethin' to keep,
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| When you finally fall asleep you’re awake in dreams,
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| Hanging by the ankles in a skeleton ravine.
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| I know you’ve kicked the lights, fell on your shoes,
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| Punched out the colors, leaving you the blues.
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| But you don’t have to be his girl
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| And you don’t have to be my girl
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| You can always be your own girl.
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| There’s a soft melody that’s ringing in my ears
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| Simple and slow and it always brings you here
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| With broken crayons you’ve scribbled on the wall
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| Shapes of nothing and shadow box them all.
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| Your fingertips are broke and your knees don’t bend,
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| Your imagination took the worst hit and cut it’s skin.
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| But you don’t have to be his girl,
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| You don’t have to be my girl,
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| You can always be your own girl.
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| There’s a soft melody that’s ringing in my ears
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| And it’s the same one you could never avoid in yours,
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| And if you lay down you can hear from tongue to tails
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| About a tattooed rhythm and drumming by color wheel.
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| Your rung is broken on the bottom of the rope
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| And you can’t tie another, another knot of hope.
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| And you don’t have to be his girl
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| And you don’t have to be my girl
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| You can always be your own girl. |