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Probably never shoulda even opened my mouth |
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And I had no right to say what anything meant to you |
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I'm still trying to figure out what it all meant to me |
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We all know sometimes I speak too quickly |
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Been known for choosing all the wrong words |
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Seems I wasn't very careful when traveling back in time |
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Remembering how I'd wished we coulda burned a little bit brighter |
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The second time around |
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I was holding out for something greater |
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Than broken slogans, empty sing-alongs |
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I still do |
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It's still not |
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Maybe it woulda been easier if I was less honest |
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When giving the answers Lord knows can be so hard to hear |
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Like the older we get the less that there seems to be worth fighting for |
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Don't you think that makes me sad too? But I was just reciting bacic math |
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Same tired words |
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Familiar let downs |
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I could not help but see all those lines that you were drawing in the sand |
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Would blow away at the slightest wind |
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But I have been giving it some thought and I have decided |
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That I'm not sorry, not sorry, not sorry about nothing |
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And I never shoulda named names when it wasn't you |
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But all the faces, all the ideas, bands that came and went and came again |
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Just could not find the patience to differentiate |
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But based on your reaction the lesson still remains |
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Bonds built on words don't mean a thing to me |
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And with friendships like ours who needs friendships anyway |
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I didn't then |
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I dont know |