| You told me on your birthday all the things that this place had done to you.
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| And in the streets you walk.
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| You hide your face because they don’t believe that it’s true.
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| They say it doesn’t happen that often.
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| But it’s happening right now.
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| I’m writing you this letter to let you know I’m not alright.
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| And in this city the streets are paved with hate
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| And you cry yourself to sleep tonight.
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| And say «no, there aren’t enough love songs in the sky.»
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| You counted down the days till you could say «Bye-bye, city, bye-bye»
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| You’re walking down on Union
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| You see the roads and know they’re apart of you.
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| They say it doesnt happen that often
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| But it’s happening right now.
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| I’m writing you a second time.
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| To let you know nothing here has changed.
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| The streets are still paved with hate.
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| So you can cry yourself to sleep tonight.
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| Will you look back on this night
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| As the day that ruined your life.
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| Will you look back on these city streets and say,
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| «Oh, God, where are you?»
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| In these city streets I hide my face.
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| I turn away when you look at me And every night when I try and sleep.
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| I feel your hands all over my body.
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| You streipped away the street signs and shot out all the stop lights.
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| If you smashed away all the building what would you have left? |