well the witches stare with their limbs akimbo
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silhouettes of statues up in the window
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call me to come here with a crooked crescendo
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but i don't
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devotees dance among the pantomime on the promenade
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into a tabernacle on the lawn
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but i don't follow
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because she's mine, she's mine, she's mine, all mine
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yeah she's mine, mine, mine, mmm
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midnight moved across the people's park
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and i fled the fire like a spinning spark
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up onto a porch in the dark
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she was waiting right there for me
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she knows that my hands are empty
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as i go past the mothers of envy
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and i don't have to fumble in the dark for my keys
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i believe she's mine, she's mine, she's mine, all mine
|
yeah she's mine, mine, mine, mmm
|
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the pupils gather in the yard
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around the pulpit made of cards
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and waited for their leader's words
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but his words didn't make much sense
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his mouth spat out a fist of daggers
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and his tongue swirled in a southern swagger
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and i looked at all the people gathered
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but they were all in a trance
|
|
and she's mine, she's mine, she's mine, all mine
|
yeah she's mine, mine, mine, mmm
|
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i was thrown before the court of canes
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tossed my soul to the furnace flames
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where all my heros had been slain, exiled, or put in prison
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because they rose above the mess
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and because their power posed a threat
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and because they spoke of something else
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when everybody else didn't
|
|
the music fills the space between
|
the deities and the prophecies
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of our bodies pressed seamlessly
|
silent in the shade
|
|
she looks at me so fearlessly
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and i take it all too seriously
|
but it all becomes so clear to me
|
and makes me understand
|
|
that she's mine, she's mine, she's mine, all mine
|
yeah she's mine, mine, mine, mmm
|
|
yeah she's mine, all mine, all mine, all mine
|
yeah she's mine, mine, mine, mmm
|
|
yeah she's mine, mine, mine, mmm
|
yeah she's mine
|
|
-----------------
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She's Mine
|
Brett Dennen |