| I feel like I’m fire
|
| Don’t say another word
|
| Seems the more exquisite love
|
| And the more exquisite hurt
|
| Oh, I could live a lifetime
|
| Trying to understand and learn
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| But some things are too damn deep
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| To make sense of, girl
|
| Ah, ah
|
| Well, I’ve learnt the saplings sweet
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| Where the gentle songbird sings
|
| Then there’s a blood-red paradox
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| At the bloody heart of things
|
| And all these walking thoughts
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| Oh, darling, I can’t shake them free
|
| I wish that they were you
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| Walking into me
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| Darling, please, please, please
|
| Would you follow me, please, please, please?
|
| Would you follow me down this street?
|
| Would you follow me, please?
|
| Well, maybe I’m just proud
|
| I never learnt to turn around
|
| And I know that table well
|
| It just devours its devout
|
| But I’m already leaving
|
| Do you feel the irony?
|
| You may have slipped the knife
|
| But I can be the end of me
|
| Darling, please, please, please
|
| Would you follow me, please, please, please?
|
| Would you follow me down this street?
|
| Would you follow me, please?
|
| Darling, please, please, please
|
| Would you follow me, please, please, please?
|
| Would you follow me down this street?
|
| Would you follow me? |