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I was walking home to my house through the snow from the station |
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When the Springsteen came clear in my headphones with a pertinent question |
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Oh is love really real and do any of hope for redemption |
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Or are we are merely biting our time down to the lonely conclusions |
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Darling let me take your hand as |
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I talk you through this |
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How loneliness edged into deep seeded psychosis |
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Lying away in crowded hotel rooms focused on takers |
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With my feelings laid clear on the ceiling |
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I don't think |
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I can do this |
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I don't think |
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I can do this |
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Well I tried so hard to not turn into my father |
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But if I only ever skip out his choices will |
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I ever choose better |
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Oh the sad truth is the grass it will always seem greener |
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So I left you alone in a restaurant in |
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London in winter |
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You deserved better |
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Out of trash some might back in my ears |
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Sound comes clear and brings the awful truth that |
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I can't stand what |
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I've done to you |
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And it's written clear in my diary today should have been our anniversary |
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But I'm far way and |
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I'm far apart |
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And you're back home with a broken heart |
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And loves is real and |
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I can escape |
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I'll only ever have myself to blame |
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These failures shift and save me in the night |
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Like a fever |
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I can't break try as |
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I mightWake me darling |
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I need you take me home |
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But I know in the end redemption is mine and mine alone |
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So if each of us is made of a tally of mistakes and successes |
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Then the hour in the restaurant makes my score less than impressive |
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If each can be redeemed with the courage by which he confesses |
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So darling |
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I miss you, your music and your musk and your kisses |
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I don't think |
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I can do this |