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So this is it? You’re packing your bag and you’re leaving?
The look in your eye seems to say
You’re tired of this empty feeling
And went through the winter that way
Your tears fell like leaves from the trees
As you packed a few things in your car
And said “I want to go back to the start
I want to go back to the start”
My mouth: a loaded gun of hurtful words.
Your heart: a tree of nervous birds
Who do not know which way to fly
You do not know if I’m the guy
To hold on to, or if your love could see you through
While it’s clear to me
If my love is an ax, you’re the tree
If my love is an ax, you’re the tree
If our love is but a fire,
then our hearts must be made of wood
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