when the horses come to drag me away,
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i won't fuss and fight i won't plead or beg.
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and wherever they dump me i'll lay my head.
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i'll sleep it off..i'll sleep alone
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until the longing burrows a hole
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straight through my sternum
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to make its home.
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i have this way of carrying on
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such fruitless passions fallen from the vine
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and the sweetest nectar turns to bitter wine.
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but still we drink we drip the bottle dry.
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we smash it apart and lick the sides..
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recycled lovers expiring the night.
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so when the horses come i won't scream or cry;
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i've been dying for them to take my life.
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and i'll sing of a new birth
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a past unscratched.
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so don't be sad, we should both rejoice
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to the sound of those hooves
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down that dark highway
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in opposite directions.
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wherever they dump us we'll stay.
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recycled lovers get so carried away.
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-----------------
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Waiting on Wild Horses
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The Good Life |