When all of your flaws and all of my flaws
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Are laid out one by one
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A wonderful part of the mess that we made
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We pick ourselves undone
|
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All of your flaws and all of my flaws
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They lie there hand in hand
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Ones we've inherited, ones that we learned
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They pass from man to man
|
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There's a hole in my soul
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I can't fill it I can't fill it
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There's a hole in my soul
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Can you fill it? Can you fill it?
|
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You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve
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And I have always buried them deep beneath the ground
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Dig them up; let's finish what we've started
|
Dig them up, so nothing's left unturned
|
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All of your flaws and all of my flaws,
|
When they have been exhumed
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We'll see that we need them to be who we are
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Without them we'd be doomed
|
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There's a hole in my soul
|
I can't fill it I can't fill it
|
There's a hole in my soul
|
Can you fill it? Can you fill it?
|
|
You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve
|
And I have always buried them deep beneath the ground
|
Dig them up; let's finish what we've started
|
Dig them up, so nothing's left unturned
|
|
Oooooh
|
Oooooh
|
|
When all of your flaws
|
And all of my flaws are counted
|
When all of your flaws
|
And all of my flaws are counted
|
|
You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve
|
And I have always buried them deep beneath the ground
|
Dig them up. Let's finish what we've started
|
Dig them up. So nothing's left unturned
|
|
Oooooh
|
Oooooh
|
|
All of your flaws and all of my flaws
|
Are laid out one by one
|
Look at the wonderful mess that we made
|
We pick ourselves undone
|
|
-----------------
|
Flaws
|
Bastille |