| Don’t you fucking look, don’t look at me,
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| This is not the end, not the way it should be,
|
| But you’re driving me away,
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| Standing on my heart,
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| That other bond has ripped us apart,
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| The bond of cigarettes, parties and credit card bills,
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| For hotels and motels and puppy-dog pills,
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| The gleaming light of city scum,
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| That place you now call home,
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| That place of just a little fun,
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| Where the angels of death now roam,
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| The stranger and their touch,
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| Is what you long for so much,
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| But you deserve better my girl,
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| That white picket fence, the family, the cure,
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| This broken set of bleeding hearts,
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| Blinds the bond that sets us apart,
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| But nothing you can say,
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| No nothing you can do,
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| Can take us back to that place where I stood holding hands with you,
|
| But you deserve better my girl,
|
| That white picket fence, the family, the cure,
|
| This broken set of bleeding hearts,
|
| Blinds the bond that sets us apart,
|
| The bond of cigarettes, parties and credit card bills,
|
| You’re standing on my heart,
|
| The stranger and their touch is what you long for so much,
|
| You’re standing on my heart. |