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Maybe it's better this way I'm letting someone steal me all over again Because this city keeps on changing by staying the same And you and me drifting into the same bars the same beaches the same questioning eyes on the same strangers We are the only ones who know that maybe sometimes maybe I still need you It's kisses on the cheek again I don't know half the time if you're saying hello or goodbye **** it and see as the song goes let me put this cigarette to my lips so I can lie to you better on this cloudy Sunday afternoon it's the little empty promises that mean so much when you're chasing after some semblance of six years ago We're the only ones who know that you need the lies as much as I do And when I pack my bags swearing I'll never come back to this place again Because I can't wait for some vision of you in some of my strange lands I can't trust this saving grace of a feeling I don't feel the erratic drums my blood hot under your touch on those wild nights that are starting to blur around the edges We're the only ones who know the last dying notes to this song Maybe I don't want to know when it's time to let go
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Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 11:20 AM UTC
7.30.2014
Maybe it's better this way I'm letting someone steal me all over again Because this city keeps on changing by staying the same And you and me drifting into the same bars the same beaches the same questioning eyes on the same strangers We are the only ones who know that maybe sometimes maybe I still need you It's kisses on the cheek again I don't know half the time if you're saying hello or goodbye **** it and see as the song goes let me put this cigarette to my lips so I can lie to you better on this cloudy Sunday afternoon it's the little empty promises that mean so much when you're chasing after some semblance of six years ago We're the only ones who know that you need the lies as much as I do And when I pack my bags swearing I'll never come back to this place again Because I can't wait for some vision of you in some of my strange lands I can't trust this saving grace of a feeling I don't feel the erratic drums my blood hot under your touch on those wild nights that are starting to blur around the edges We're the only ones who know the last dying notes to this song Maybe I don't want to know when it's time to let go
sarah-villaluz
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Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 11:20 AM UTC
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