| Gabardine roses, tortured vines
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| The sun has been hiding all this time
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| I thought that I’d see you again somehow
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| But the dirt is your lover now
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| And outside the all-night in an orchestra of rain
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| You fell in love with a hurricane
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| You were torn like a road map and lost in the crowd
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| And the dirt is your lover now
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| Fingernails, thorn trees, my fickle heart too
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| So many things in this sad little world grow back
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| Except for you
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| And the streets of my home town still look the same
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| But behind shaking fingers they’re whispering your name
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| And it’s funny the tears that time will allow
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| ‘Cause the dirt is your lover now
|
| Fingernails, thorn trees, my fickle heart too
|
| So many things in this sad little world grow back
|
| Except for you
|
| There are fists on the front page, blood in the sky
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| There’s no shoulder strong enough when the clouds start to cry
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| Did you propose to the bedrock on your way underground?
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| ‘Cause the dirt is your lover now
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| Yeah, the dirt is your lover now |