| I don’t really know if she cares or not
|
| All I know is she left a lot of
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| Stuff in my apartment
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| She’s never getting back
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| And as her smell on my pillow fades
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| Her cigarettes might stay
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| Like a Roman Coliseum
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| A dry and worthless monument to our love
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| I still have your lighter
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| I still have your book
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| I still have everything you brought
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| But you never took
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| You know where to find me
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| And I know where to look
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| (I'm not a crook)
|
| And I don’t really know if she knows or not
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| But I left some things in her jewelry box
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| And she’s wearing down my rings
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| Taking the compliments meant for me
|
| And although I think I’ll miss them
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| At least there’s proof of my existence
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| A captive little soldier on her fingers
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| Deep behind enemy lines
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| A copy of Gravity’s Rainbow that she probably didn’t read
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| How about my Laura Nyro record she probably threw away when she moved
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| How about the half box of lentils when I cooked her food that she probably
|
| didn’t use
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| I wanna dedicate this jam
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| To all those things I left behind in girls' apartments and various domiciles
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| over the years
|
| Sometimes you gotta leave in a hurry man, what can I say
|
| Except I didn’t forget about any of it
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| I’m taking it all back |