On a Sunday morning in her Saturday shoes
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We don't choose who we love
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We don't choose
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The lights over the Midway melt on the street
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In a Sunday shoes, with her Saturday feet
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She don't love who he choose
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She don't need what she use
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Daylight comes and exposes
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Saturday's bruises and cold roses
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Cold roses
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Nothing but the sunlight will help you grow
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From underneath your bed you can't see the window
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We don't choose what we see
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We don't choose
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Fortunate and angry just like a child
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All that money buys you medicine but can't buy you time
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We don't choose what we love
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And she don't need what she got
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Daylight comes and exposes
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Saturday's bruises and cold roses
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Cold roses
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Cold roses
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Cold roses
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The mirrors in the room go black and blue
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Ryan Adams |