While he sits and stares
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At girls he can't explain
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Oh here she comes
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On ten white horses made of string and clay
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The flowers in his fingers slip away
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A wise old lover said
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That lies do not deceive
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So when she sleeps I'll leave her bed and hurry home instead
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My soul is on a string tied to the chair
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And why is it I pray
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To Gods that always fail
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To drag that girl back through my window and undress my faith
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And smile at me while I put on my chains
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