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Portrait |
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the photographer's impatient |
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as the train pulls out of the station, |
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and you're heading further south |
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than i thought you'd ever go. |
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the streets are filling up with snow, |
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the ice floe has no place to go |
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so i'm opening my doors |
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and telling everyone i know. |
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i can't pose for this portrait without you. |
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the light is fading fast on what is true. |
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i can't pose for this portrait without you. |
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the families in the line behind us are trying to get through. |
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there's honey in the chemicals. |
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you hide so well that nothing shows, |
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you can't lock eyes with one who knows, |
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and every sheet that comes out white |
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reminds me of that night. |
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if you were here i'd look complete, |
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the cameras wouldn't have to cheat, |
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something in the photo bath |
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would make us all so sweet. |
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i can't pose for this portrait without you. |
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the light is fading fast on what is true. |
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i can't pose for this portrait without you. |
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the families in the line behind us are trying to get through. |
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there's honey in the chemicals. |
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your car wheel's spinning in a ditch, |
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your father called you one cold bitch, |
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he said he would've hit you |
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but he didn't have the strength. |
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my house is filling up with smoke, |
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i'm getting high on jack and coke, |
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the kitchen pipes are frozen |
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and your world is at arm's length. |
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i can't pose for this portrait without you. |
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the light is fading fast on what is true. |
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i can't pose for this portrait without you. |
|
the families in the line behind us are trying to get through. |
|
there's honey in the chemicals. |
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honey in the chemicals. |
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honey in the chemicals. |
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honey in the chemicals. |
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honey in the chemicals. |