| Babe you’re a habit
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| A stacked cigarette packet
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| And your kisses are matches
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| Not nicotine patches
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| You’re in my bloodstream
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| But no syringe can get you in or out
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| 'Cause baby you’re more than that
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| You’re an overdose, a heart attack
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| I feel nothing when I’m alone
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| Baby you bring it on
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| I miss the way
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| I smell my clothes and think of you
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| Close my eyes and hope that you’ll materialize
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| I think I’ve got problems
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| I think I’ve got problems, babe
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| I think I’ve got a problem with you
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| My vision is blurred
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| My diction is slurred
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| But you can tell it from my step
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| Now you can smell it on my breath
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| No breathalyzer is required
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| 'Cause I can barely hold my head straight up
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| I feel nothing when I’m alone
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| Baby you bring it on
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| I miss the way
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| I smell my clothes and think of you
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| Close my eyes and hope that you’ll materialize
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| I think I’ve got problems
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| I think I’ve got problems, babe
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| I think I’ve got a problem with you
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| And I’m down on my knees
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| And I’m craving release
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| And I’m craving release
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| I smell my clothes and think of you
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| Close my eyes and hope that you’ll materialize
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| I think I’ve got problems
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| I think I’ve got problems, babe
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| I think I’ve got a problem with you |