| I curled against your ribcage when you were half-mad from wine
|
| The intensity in our faces, nagging at my soul
|
| And tomorrow when we’re paying off, the credits of tonight
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| Tomorrow when our bodies count out tolls
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| I know you’re killing time by miming a slow suicide,
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| You’re more like me than you could know
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| I know that my ideals are projected upon your flushed and shattered flesh
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| Like a tragic ending,
|
| a tragic ending…
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| Et si je regrette les choses que j’ai dites ce soir…
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| Et si j’oublie, personne ne me reppellera
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| I know you’re killing time by feigning little suicides
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| Because we find escape is the only art form our hands make
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| I know that my ideals are projected upon your flushed and shattered flesh
|
| I love tragic endings…
|
| Et si je regrette les choses que j’ai dites ce soir…
|
| Et si j’oublie, personne ne me rappellera
|
| Shake it off, shake if off
|
| Order another round
|
| Shake it off, shake it off
|
| If your sorrows could drown
|
| Shake it off, shake it off
|
| Order another round
|
| Shake it off, shake it off
|
| Toss it down
|
| Alienation breeds isolation
|
| Mortality is in fashion
|
| With our crowd, with our crowd
|
| Destroying our bodies to feel alive
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| Oblivion crown for the weary mind
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| Tomorrow, on the mend…
|
| We start all over again
|
| And now you’re killing time just watching months and years drift by
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| You were the finest once, the darling of the city
|
| Now the sorrows swarm like flies, the girls all divert their eyes
|
| You’ve earned their pity, seeking their idolatry
|
| Et si je regrette les choses que j’ai dites ce soir…
|
| Et si j’oublie, personne ne me rappellera
|
| Shake it off, shake if off
|
| Order another round
|
| Shake it off, shake it off
|
| If your sorrows could drown
|
| Shake it off, shake it off
|
| Order another round
|
| Shake it off, shake it off
|
| Toss it down
|
| Et si je regrette les choses que j’ai dites ce soir…
|
| Et si j’oublie, personne ne me rappellera
|
| I watched the way we talk in the window of the brasserie
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| Even in your drunken slur you utter such sweet poetry
|
| I love tragic endings… |