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You broke my heart last night when we had our forty-seventh fight Forty-six was bad enough but then you brought up all this other stuff Like how I'm never listening You've really got me bristling My broken heart is blistlering We patched it up today in a partial sort of way but I'm fraying at the hems cos it's hard to start again, again Because I forgot to remember how to forget now my broken heart's a mess And I don't know quite how but I'm saying "Yes" You know you've got me stitched and you know I love that kitsch but I feel like I could sink if you really paint the kitchen pink This house is not a football pitch and if you win, you won't get rich So I'll admit defeat if you'll agree to turn down the heat |
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