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You sleep like a kid with one hand stuck fast to the side of your face |
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Backside in the air, mouth half open, but still filled with grace |
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And you seem so happy as your skin turns the colour of a violet-golden sky |
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And it cuts me up when we fight and go to bed facing opposite sides |
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You're like gasoline |
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You're like the willow tree |
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You're like a split-screen |
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But you're the green in me |
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And you smoke when you're hurt or bored or out with friends, but I don't mind |
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Who cares if the big 'C' comes? We're young, we're having some lovely times |
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You frown as the clouds bring you down, drop to your knees and scream "Oh, my God" |
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But you really shouldn't bother, there's bigger things going on |
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you little sod, you little sod |
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You're like gasoline |
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You're like the willow tree |
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You're like a split-screen |
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But you're the green in me |
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You're like gasoline |
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You're like the willow tree |
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You're like a split-screen |
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But you're the green in me |