| You always wear neutral colors
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| You are a forest of gray and brown
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| and your bed is always empty
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| Elizabeth was right,
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| you keep your guard up higher than a castle wall
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| and your hands are always buried in your pockets
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| I know what happened
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| on the grounds of the school where you met,
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| when you were carrying three months of salary spent
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| And I know how she found out-
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| and how her father would never allow such a poor family name claim his own
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| So I know she never showed,
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| and how you stayed for hours
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| (like a mariner trapped at sea)
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| When dawn crawled into the sky
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| you dragged your body home
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| collapsing, at last, alone in your bed
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| You woke after little sleep,
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| shook the weight off your shoulders
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| and drove yourself down to the harbor
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| And you walked onto the pier
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| where the wind howled and shared your grief
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| like it was part of your body
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| You slowly removed the diamond ring from inside your pocket
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| and you buried it at sea |