| Raining in Kyoto
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| It’s flooding the streets
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| I’m nursing a coffee from a vending machine
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| I saw the god of rice, a fox with a key
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| I woke up blind with a headache
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| Grinding my teeth
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| Confused and alone and taking pills to sleep
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| They soften your absence but they don’t let me dream
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| Raining in Kyoto
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| My breath turns into steam
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| I buy you a candle, not even sure what it means
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| I cursed at the matches
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| And drown in my grief, grief
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| An old man stood close by, smiled at me
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| I rung the bell like he did
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| I told you I’m sorry
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| A makeshift funeral, I tried setting you free
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| You’re half asleep
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| And I bought you a radio to drown out the machines
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| Hospital light, you asked about the weather, wish that they’d let you outside
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| Raining in Kyoto
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| I’m starting to shake
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| They’ll hold your service tomorrow
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| I’m an ocean away
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| Reach into my pocket, found a small paper crane
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| It’s been over a year now
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| April turns into May
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| I’ve barely stopped moving, I’ve been so fucking afraid
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| Too much of a coward to even visit your grave
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| You’re half awake
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| And I bought you a radio to play the blues away
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| With my hand to hold, you asked about the weather, wish they’d let you die at
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| home
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| You’re half awake
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| And I bought you a radio to play the blues away
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| Hospital light, you asked about the weather, wish that they’d let you outside
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| Goodnight
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| Goodnight
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| Goodbye |