| I wake up feeling nothing, camouflage the wavering sky
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| I sit at my piano, wander the wild whereby
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| And the lilacs drink the water, and the lilacs die
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| And the lilacs drink the water, marking the slow slow slow passing of time
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| I get so angry, baby, at something you might say
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| I dream about an awful stranger, work my way through the day
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| I run it like a silent movie, I run it like a violent song
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| I run it like a voice compelling, so right it can’t be wrong
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| If I’m a broken record, write it in the dust, babe
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| I’ll fill myself back up like I used to do
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| And if my bones are made of delicate sugar
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| I won’t end up anywhere good without you…
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| I need your love too
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| When I live a sparse existence, I’ll drop down in the fold
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| Lean in to an urgent falter, spin silence into gold
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| I run it like the crop of kismet, I run it like a dilettante
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| I run it like I’m happy, baby, like I got everything I want
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| If I’m a broken record, write it in the dust, babe
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| I’ll fill myself back up like I used to do
|
| And if my bones are made of delicate sugar
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| I won’t end up anywhere good without you
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| I won’t end up anywhere good without you…
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| I need your love too
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| And the lilacs drank the water
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| And the lilacs drank the water
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| And the lilacs drank the water… |