| She’s holding a secret that she’ll never tell
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| She’s holding a secret that she’ll never tell
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| Because the myth is not supposed to retire
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| We’d rather it lit itself on fire
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| Or overdosed in a 4-star hotel
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| She’s holding a truth that she’ll never reveal
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| She’s holding a truth that she’ll never reveal
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| Because truth this time is an ugly child
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| And mother and daughter may reconcile but their faces will never heal
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| «Don't go,» she says, but he’s sleeping—
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| She says it to herself: «Don't go.»
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| She sees herself rising
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| Packing a suitcase with all of her shoes
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| But something keeps you faithful
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| When all else in you turns and runs
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| Love turns 40
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| The morning comes
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| She’s holding a secret that she’ll never tell
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| She’s holding a secret that she’ll never tell
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| Because we were once cinema gods in the night
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| And now all we’ve got is lunch-hour light
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| Where nothing photographs well
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| «Don't go,» she says, but he’s sleeping—
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| She says it to the dark: «Don't go.»
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| She sees herself rising
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| Dressing in silence for nothing to lose
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| But something keeps you faithful
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| When all else in you turns and runs
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| Love turns 40
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| The morning comes |