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Saturday night burns
|
a redness on my face
|
I tasted you
|
you tasted me
|
you were never my taste
|
Now left alone
|
with precious thoughts of half - assed half an hour stops
|
and talk so small I can't remember every single word
|
Laced with think naivete
|
firm delusions can't be swayed
|
Tell yourself you're happy
|
we both know the truth
|
It's false behind the dirty talk
|
the dirty sheets
|
the sexy walk
|
Your eyes are closed
|
your heart is open wide
|
and that's no good.
|
There is something up my sleeve
|
there is nothing in between
|
You and me that you can't see
|
So beg my pardon.
|
|
Honesty's a virtue that can hurt you
|
let it be
|
The thought that counts is
|
counting down the minutes 'till I leave
|
And when I do you'll be looking for security in words
|
though you know that you won't get it for the better
|
for the worse.
|
|
There is something up my sleeve
|
there is nothing in between
|
You and me that you can't see
|
So beg my pardon
|
|
I apologize for me
|
then I'm back in a couple weeks
|
I'm too weak to help it
|
don't know how to end it
|
I apologize for me.
|
|
There is something up my sleeve
|
there is nothing in between
|
You and me that you can't see
|
So beg my pardonThere is something up my sleeve
|
there is nothing in between
|
You and me that you can't see
|
So beg my pardon
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
Saturday Night
|
Eve 6 |