There are police sirens in my head that sound like mad babies crying.
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It's the long face.
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When my emotions rain the boss of the city is the cabdriver.
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Running up to my face and into my arms.
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Shared only some of it, give away most of it.
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When I feel this way therefore I am.
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It's you, it's me, walking down that street.
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I wish I could see my own funeral to regret being dead.
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Baby don't leave.
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I want the attention.
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The Long Face
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Minus |