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Once a friend told me of his experience, |
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That he had loved somebody and in pain, |
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He had slit his arm and sent the blood to her |
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and that he was glad that it was over |
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He had talked and made love like an expert, |
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But I had never seen his soul |
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And his eyes had a sort of dead smile |
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As if he wanted me to believe |
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that he was still alive |
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He was a winter friend to me, |
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We walked in the snow to Chinatown for noodles |
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That was many years ago, in another life, |
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Why do I remember it now? |
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When I'd heard his story, |
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I'd heard it like a car accident |
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that I would never be in myself |
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He was a winter friend to me, |
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We walked in the snow to Chinatown to noodles |
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La la la la la la la |
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La la la la la |
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La la la la la la la |
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La la la la dee la dee la da |
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Dee la la la |
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Now that i see my car slipping down the cliff |
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And i'm desperately looking for the brake... |
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Don't let it happen to me, |
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Please, don't let it happen to me, |
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I'm not ready to die or live a living death, |
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I'm not ready to die or live a living death, |
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I'm not ready to die.. |