Cause there I a house made of black stone,
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And it sits at the end of the road.
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I'd paint it red and it's forgotten.
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Some say. That I'd disappear
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That I'd disappear.
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That I'd disappear.
|
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This isn't automatic.
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This is impossible.
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We all are far from tragic.
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We are like statues of.
|
|
This isn't automatic.
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This is impossible.
|
We all are far from tragic.
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We are like statues of.
|
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It's hard t ostand when it's all in your head.
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Find that black house paint it red.
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It's hard to feel when you've been through this much.
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Wanna talk, wanna touch.
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It's hard to run when you can't find your feet.
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And I don't want your world on me.
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Cause on the inside. Everything's white,
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And I'd loose myself in it's light.
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I'd close the door and get forgotten. Some say.
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We are like statues of stone.
|
|
This isn't automatic.
|
This is impossible.
|
We all are far from tragic.
|
We are like statues of.
|
|
This isn't automatic.
|
This is impossible.
|
We all are far from tragic.
|
We are like statues of.
|
|
This isn't automatic.
|
This is impossible.
|
We all are far from tragic.
|
We are like statues of.
|
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Statues of stone.
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Statues of stone.
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-----------------
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Paint It Red
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Vaux |