(Difford/Tilbrook)
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A black and white photograph
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Of me up the garden path
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Wrapped up in my football scarf
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It sits here in my hand
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And there mother smothered me
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And how she would mother me
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She knew how to suffer me
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Like all mothers can
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Now she is everywhere
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The comb that runs through my hair
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My posture on a chair
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But that¡¯s not who I am
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He ran from the arguments
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And sat on the garden fence
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And lived in the passing tense
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That fell from her lips
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He tended the house so well
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And each time she rang his bell
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He¡¯d climb back from where he fell
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And gathered his wits
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Now I fear the mold is mine
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A vibration shakes my spine
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As I walk the crooked line
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Reality hits
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So let me walk free from you
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You know that you want me to
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Let me try something new
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Let me walk away
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If it¡¯s not one thing it¡¯s your mother
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How I love her
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How I love her
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How I love her
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But it¡¯s not so easy to say
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Please won¡¯t you let me walk away
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Let me walk away
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Let me walk away
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So let me walk on my own
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And finish my ice cream cone
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If we are to make it home
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Then all will be well
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Look see I¡¯m a father now
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I¡¯m raising my own eyebrow
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And being in my own row
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And making life hell
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This is me, see here I am
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Doing the best that I can
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This life has a subtle plan
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But you couldn¡¯t tell
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-----------------
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Walk Away
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Squeeze |