| The pollen on my nose, marks the start of the spring and the death of the cold
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| So I move south down the east coast, hope for west winds and for warm toes
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| To try and understand
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| The words we know
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| To try and hold your hands to learn
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| The ways we speak the ways we fold
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| Land and Sea, land and home
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| Taking off all, taking off all your all your clothes
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| I don’t know, I don’t know if I’m good for you
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| Land and sea, land and home
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| Gave my eyes to the sun, sold my heart to the road
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| I don’t know, I don’t know if I’m good for you
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| Cause I can’t give you things to keep or things to lose
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| And I don’t know
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| If I’m good for you
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| I don’t know
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| If I’m good for you
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| Just because it’s good for you, doesn’t mean, that it’s something I’ve worn
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| I’ve worn, and
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| Even if you’re worth holding to, with sunburnt lips and morning stars
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| And I know I’m not good for you, doesn’t mean that it’s something I’ve worn
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| I’ve worn, and
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| Even if you’re worth holding to, with bruises on your hips and open arms
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| Land and Sea, land and home
|
| Taking off all, taking off all your all your clothes
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| I don’t know, I don’t know if I’m good for you
|
| Land and sea, land and home
|
| Gave my eyes to the sun, sold my heart to the road
|
| I don’t know, I don’t know if I’m good for you
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| Cause I can’t give you things to keep or things to lose
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| And I don’t know
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| If I’m good for you |