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Our separation seems forever; I’ll do it if it’s what you like.
Go take your bags to New York City, call me when your plane arrives.
I’ll feed the children ‘n’ wash the dishes ‘n’ keep the house lookin’ nice.
Go take your bags to New York City, call me when your plane arrives.
I’ll feed the children ‘n’ wash the dishes ‘n’ keep the house lookin’ nice.
Well don’t you worry now, every’ gonna be alright.
It’s been snowin’ this October, turning grass into grain.
Do you see much past your hotel window, Friday nights with your gang?
Can only hope that things were different.
And darlin’, do you feel the same?
Every time you drink your wine in the rain?
All you said you’ve seen is my face in a magazine,
My hair slicked back and clean or so it seemed,
Now anyone can say that a man shouldn’t live this way,
So take your pretty poison right to the grave,
We’ll never change.
And I sold our house the 3rd December, we’re livin’ where our feet done land.
And the babies screams, they might get to heaven, but they’re buried far ‘neath the sand.
All I know my minds done thinking, mouths doin’ what it can
To keep the rhythm and put a nickel back in your hand.
All you said you’ve seen is my face in a magazine,
My hair slicked back and clean or so it seemed.
Now anyone can say that a man shouldn’t live this way, so take your pretty poison right to the grave.
We’re dancing naked out in the rain,
Put your own pain to the page.
We’ll never change.
It’s been snowin’ this October, turning grass into grain.
Do you see much past your hotel window, Friday nights with your gang?
Can only hope that things were different.
And darlin’, do you feel the same?
Every time you drink your wine in the rain?
All you said you’ve seen is my face in a magazine,
My hair slicked back and clean or so it seemed,
Now anyone can say that a man shouldn’t live this way,
So take your pretty poison right to the grave,
We’ll never change.
And I sold our house the 3rd December, we’re livin’ where our feet done land.
And the babies screams, they might get to heaven, but they’re buried far ‘neath the sand.
All I know my minds done thinking, mouths doin’ what it can
To keep the rhythm and put a nickel back in your hand.
All you said you’ve seen is my face in a magazine,
My hair slicked back and clean or so it seemed.
Now anyone can say that a man shouldn’t live this way, so take your pretty poison right to the grave.
We’re dancing naked out in the rain,
Put your own pain to the page.
We’ll never change.
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