I knew that I'd get like this again
That's why I try to keep at bay
Be a hundred percent when I'm with you and then
A perfect heart's length away
The stickler is you've played not one beat wrong
You never promised me anything
Even sat me down, warned me just how they fall
And I knew the odds were I'd never win
Yet here I am
It's a half life
With you as my quarterback
A daft life
My self-worth measured in text back tempo
It's been 2 days and 8 minutes too slow
There may well be others but I still like to pretend
wrong
worth
world
warned
quarterback
loved
explode
lonely
tempo
hundred
tight
always
really
everyone
become
measured
sweet
along
contracts
universe
there
smoke
disappear
never
clenching
compressed
decide
again
still
length
conscience
anything
loves
crowd
percent
minutes
perfect
first
played
others
pretend
promised
register
schedule
place
showdown
stickler
maybe
stick
ticket
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