| I wear my patent leather shoes
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| and my golden fleeces.
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| A feather in my hair for you,
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| and then I fall to pieces
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| at your celebration,
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| celebration, celebration,
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| celebrate you.
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| We’re quiet as two mannequins
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| feasting on silences.
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| we wait for Christmas to begin
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| to see the cracking faces
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| I tip my glass and toast to you.
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| the blood spills on the carpet
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| at your celebration
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| celebration, celebration
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| celebrate you.
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| And in the dream you held a gun.
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| you killed off all who hurt you,
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| and left me there, the only one
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| who would not dare desert you.
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| I’m safe here growing in the shade,
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| away from all your brightness.
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| I lost my innocence today
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| when I learned how to write this.
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| Tonight my nightgown is in knots.
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| I toss and turn in your honor
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| I’ll never know just what I’ve got
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| as long as you’re my father.
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| and I’ll keep searching here for you.
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| I’ll clean up, every corner.
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| it’s not my fault
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| it’s not my fault (celebrate you)
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| it’s not my fault (celebrate you)
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| it’s not my fault (celebrate you)
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| it’s not my fault. |