| o, how my heart can fly when your smile has good intentions
|
| (and «hi» can mean the world to me)
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| and i know singing makes you shy when it’s in front of me and my friends
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| (but your singing means the world to me)
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| ooohhh…
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| and how i tried to keep my cool when we disappointed you
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| you waxen wing, you foolish thing
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| (you waxen wing, you foolish thing)
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| and o, how i can still taste your tongue tied stare upon my face
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| you dirty look, you burning bush
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| (you dirty look, you burning bush)
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| so here i sit, come to rest some weight upon your little chest
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| you free-for-all, you wrecking ball
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| (you free-for-all, you wrecking ball)
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| hovering next to your bed, to lay waste to your healthy head
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| you spiderweb, you dance of death
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| (you spiderweb, you dance of death)
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| ooohhh…
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| and I believe you’d be so cold to leave me hanging all day long
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| you prickly frost, you courage lost
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| (you prickly frost, you courage lost)
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| but I could never be so mad to shake you by the shoulders screaming
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| you coward, you hummingbird (x)
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| I screamed out how’d it get this bad? |
| And the thunder answered back if you know
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| not what you lack then you must unturn your back
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| Your inside is overcast, you are tethered to your past
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| and it must feel like fucking hell, to be a patchwork of yourself,
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| a bunch of scraps thrown and sewn around your bones
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| and though you’re alone it’s holding you too tightly.
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| But Who are you?
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| From where do you come?
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| What do you believe in?
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| And whom do you love? |