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Bulimic Beats

I thought we'd escape

I packed a fishin' line and counted on it

I thought we'd escape

I packed a fishin' line and counted on itBut dreamin' is for moon rise

And moonlight ails these tired eyes

I treat him like a lady

I treat him as I would he unto me

Give Rose, rose seller a run for her money

With silicone and poetry

But it's the end of meI thought it could change

I'd wake up one mornin' and find nothin' to rearrange

I couldn't get there

Behind his wall of Sunday papers

(I thought it could change)

I'd wake up one mornin' and find nothin' to rearrangeBut dreamin' is for moon rise

And moonlight ails these tired eyes

I treat him like a lady

I treat him as I would he unto me

Give Rose, rose seller a run for her money

With silicone and poetry

And it's the end of me

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