| You thought you’d risk my life for me
|
| That kind of help I don’t need
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| But oh what fun it seems to be
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| Smear all the door knobs with grease
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| Always keeping one eye free
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| Unconscious discrepancy
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| I try to pick the winning side
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| And you looked like the winning type
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| No I can’t listen to you anymore
|
| You’re starting to make some kind of twisted sense
|
| I know you’d love it if you knew how close you are
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| To persuading me
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| Got to prove you’re not to touch
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| How can you stand to know so much?
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| Why do you stop to talk to me?
|
| I’m deaf and dull with apathy
|
| Dead men are the silent type
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| Tied off too tight with the hype
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| Did we dine and did we dash
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| Even when we had the cash
|
| No I can’t listen to you anymore
|
| You’re starting to make some kind of twisted sense
|
| I know you’d love it if you knew how close you are
|
| To persuading me close to persuading me
|
| You may just take me down with you yet
|
| I feel it seep
|
| The trouble into my brain
|
| Like a slow working corrosive
|
| Eating away inside
|
| Got to prove you’re not to touch
|
| How can you stand to know so much?
|
| Why do you stop to talk to me?
|
| I’m deaf and dull with apathy
|
| I try to pick the winning side
|
| And you looked like the winning type
|
| You and me out on the dole
|
| Next time we dance on hotter coals |