| You are a petal falling from a rose
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| When we talk I like it in prose
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| 'Cause all my words are just tumbleweeds
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| Years and years of centered gravity
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| Essential existential anxiety
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| I think my friends still worry about me
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| But I can’t get my arms wide enough
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| No, I can’t get my arms wide enough
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| There’s a lump in my throat of words
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| Held it down and swallow the past hurt
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| But they’ve crawled their way back out
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| And said goodbye to the sad, sad songs
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| In an effort to move on
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| And re-experienced my experience
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| Now I can’t get my arms wide enough
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| Oh, I can’t get my arms wide enough
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| Yeah, I can’t get my arms wide enough
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| Yeah, I can’t get my arms wide enough
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| Love
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| Has it lasted in my notion of love
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| As I lasted in my notion of love
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| As I lost it in my notion of love
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| To recall you all the sundered things, love
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| Has it lasted in my notion of love
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| As I lasted in my notion of love
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| As I lost it in my notion of love
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| To recall you all the sundered things
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| Now I can’t get my arms wide enough
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| Oh, I can’t get my arms wide enough |