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You've got the best of both worlds |
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You're the kind of girl who can take down a man, |
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And lift him back up again |
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You are strong but you're needy, |
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Humble but you're greedy |
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Based on your body language, |
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your shouted cursive I've been reading |
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You're style is quite selective, |
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though your mind is rather reckless |
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Well I guess it just suggests |
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that this is just what happiness is |
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Hey, what a beautiful mess this is |
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It's like picking up trash in dresses |
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Well it kind of hurts when the kind of words you write |
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Kind of turn themselves into knives |
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And don't mind my nerve you can call it fiction |
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But I like being submerged in your contradictions dear |
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'Cause here we are, here we are |
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Although you were biased I love your advice |
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Your comebacks they're quick |
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And probably have to do with your insecurities |
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There's no shame in being crazy, |
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Depending on how you take these |
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Words that paraphrasing this relationship we're staging |
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|
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And what a beautiful mess, yes it is |
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It's like, we are picking up trash in dresses |
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Well it kind of hurts when the kind of words you say |
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Kind of turn themselves into blades |
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And the kind and courteous is a life I've heard |
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But it's nice to say that we played in the dirt oh dear |
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Cause here we are, Here we are |
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Here we are x7 |
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We're still here |
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And what a beautiful mess this is |
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It's like taking a guess when the only answer is yes |
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Through timeless words in priceless pictures |
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We'll fly like birds not of this earth |
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And tides they turn and hearts disfigure |
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But that's no concern when we're wounded together |
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And we tore our dresses and stained our shirts |
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But it's nice today, oh the wait was so worth it |
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