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I know people don't really fix things anymore, |
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But if I ever break you, I swear, |
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I'll put you back together again. |
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I'll prop you up with wire, |
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I'll sit you by the fire. |
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Sew you up with white cotton thread. |
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And if I ever start to wear you down, I swear, |
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I'll patch you up like the elbows of your favourite jacket. |
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Because you're lovely, |
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The way you look at me. |
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You are lovely, |
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I'll be the bread, and you can be the honey. |
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Think of you loving me. |
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You are lovely, |
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I'll be the cup, and you can be the peppermint tea. |
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I know people don't really write letters anymore, |
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But this is mine to you: |
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"Dear love, I hope you're well, |
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Up here there's not much to tell. |
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But I can say I'm doing fine. |
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Outside it's raining like a machine gun, |
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Days like these you miss the sun. |
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In other words, wish you were here." |
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Because you're lovely, |
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The way you look at me. |
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You are lovely, |
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I'll be the bread, and you can be the honey. |
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Think of you loving me. |
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You are lovely, |
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I'll be the cup, and you can be the peppermint tea. |
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I know people don't really fix things anymore, |
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But if I ever break you I swear, |
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I'll put you back together again. |