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The card on the table have changed |
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The ones who have left can't be traced, |
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But all who are here can be trusted to not say a thing |
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The doorways tonight hold the ones |
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Who've taken to being undone |
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And lust for the love of all the ones who won't mean a thing |
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But it's alright |
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It's so alright |
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To be without |
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The lost and founds |
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Of some weekend night |
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The last wheel to spin for to turn |
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Has put down a blanket and yearns |
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For the sigh that was spun from its wheelspinning trickle of light |
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But it's alright |
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It's so alright |
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It's so alright |