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If your hair was a call to arms |
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and your legs were what skirts are for |
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then your mouth was a red alert |
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but your eyes were an act of war. |
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I needed a nurse and a mother, |
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I needed an open-minded whore. |
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I needed a barmaid and a lover. |
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Someone to stand between me and the floor. |
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But when we attacked, it was never swiftly. |
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We must have been locked in combat for years. |
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Our new hardwood floor was the perfect battleground |
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so I suppose the bullets were our tears. |
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Okay, I know we threw some things about |
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and i'm sure that you got in a punch or two |
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and is it true your comrade's been asking if I'm the sort of man |
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who could ever sink to hit you too? |
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"Why does she always have bruises? They'd be much happier apart" |
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the fact is, you've always been clumsy |
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be it with tables at your work or with my heart. |