| If he don’t mean it, he won’t say it, and I can tell
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| If I don’t mean it, I won’t say it, and his face fell
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| But it’s so seldom that I believe it
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| It takes a clear kind of day
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| Like air so cold it hurts to breathe it
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| And the colour comes to my face
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| And I don’t tell my mother, I don’t tell my sister
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| Something so tender, I’d rather not speak it
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| Even when I know it, that he’s mine
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| Woke up thirsty and lost in memory, coming in swells
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| And dreams stay with me long into morning, strange wells
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| I’ve been free, but I’ve known not freedom like a kite
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| It was a glimpse, but I did see him at full height
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| I left it all unspoken and free
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| In the coming and the going
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| Knowing not what he means
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| And I don’t even know him, but he’s mine |